


Summer Fling, Don't Mean A Thing

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Warped Tour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots from a summer on the road. Kyungsoo keeps kissing Chanyeol and Chanyeol's not sure what that means, but he knows he likes it. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**houston, texas. june 14.**

Load-in starts bright and early at 7:00 the first morning of the Warped Tour. It doesn't seem so bad, but that's probably just the excitement keeping him from curling up in his bunk to catch a couple more hours of sleep. Kyungsoo appears just as the last guitar makes it off the trailer with a cardboard cup of gas station coffee, looking like he didn't sleep a wink last night, either.

"Got one for me?" Chanyeol teases, wiping the sweat from his forehead. They're on one of the smaller stages today, the noon time slot. Chanyeol prefers going early in the day—he gets to take his time unloading, doesn't have to rush to load the trailer after the set's over, and then he's got the rest of the day to do as he pleases until bus call. Perfect gig, really. Or as close to perfect as a summer-long commitment can be.

"Here, finish it," Kyungsoo says, holding it out. "I'm shaking enough without it. Everything make it in one piece?"

"Just need to re-string Yixing's acoustic and we're good to go." Chanyeol accepts the coffee—still warm—and chugs it, grateful for the caffeine boost. "Are you really nervous?"

"This is the first time we've done the whole Tour, start to finish. I'm just excited."

Chanyeol shades his eyes from the sun and looks at Kyungsoo, whose perpetually-deadpan expression doesn't betray any excitement to speak of. He's dressed in his usual pair of black skinny jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Black sneakers, black cap. He's a studded belt away from becoming a Hot Topic employee. Or a set of bongos away from being a beatnik, whichever's closest at hand. Probably the belt, though, given the demographic. "You're going to get heat stroke dressed like that," Chanyeol says, hiding a smile into the plastic lid of his coffee. "You should change."

"I'm fine," Kyungsoo says, checking the time on his phone display. "Alright, I'm going to go see if Sehun has the merch set up and ready. Gates open in an hour."

"Is Baekhyun awake yet?"

Kyungsoo shoots him a withering look. "You really need to ask?"

"Need help with that?"

"No. If he's not up by the time I get back, he's going to wish he never went to bed last night," Kyungsoo says grimly, although there's a devilish twinkle in his eye that nearly makes Chanyeol feel bad for Baekhyun. Kyungsoo's a great manager—disciplined, organized, calm in the face of a panicked situation. And he tolerates Baekhyun's shenanigans with minimal protest, so it's only fair that Kyungsoo gets to even the score every once in a while.

"Don't hit him too hard. It'll be a long summer without a lead singer."

 

  
**san antonio, texas. june 14.**

The thermostat says it's 90° today. Chanyeol feels it, the stifling air of the trailers during load-in, the heaviness of the air backstage before someone's smart enough to go find a box fan to try and get some air circulating to keep everyone breathing and on their feet. The guitars won't hold their tuning in all that heat, either, no matter how many times Yixing kept coming offstage to swap out for something else, hands waving frantically to signal that _it's gone flat again, man._

Afterwards, he's exhausted. Soaked through his t-shirt and stinking like sweat from trying to play instrument Tetris in the trailer with the gear. He wants a shower. Desperately. Too bad they're two days from a night's stay in a hotel, and although the free-standing shower rigged to the back of the bus is tempting... he's really not sure where the water's coming from, and he's not in the mood to be stripped naked in front of everyone quite so soon.

He detours to the merch tent on his way back to the bus instead and meets up with Kyungsoo, who's sitting with Sehun and helping him inventory a huge, pink plastic tub full of the band's two CDs. Sehun's thumbing through the stack of shrink-wrapped jewel cases but his attention is clearly elsewhere, eyes cast over the row of tents and beyond, where someone's about to take their turn on the skate ramp.

Chanyeol sits down in the grass next to Kyungsoo's folding chair and sighs loudly. "Fuck," he mutters. "It's so fucking hot." When he looks up, Kyungsoo's still flicking through CDs, counting under his breath, but he switches to counting one-handed so he can muss his fingers through Chanyeol's hair. He's in his customary all-black get-up, although today he's swapped out the long-sleeved shirt for a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled into cuffs, so he's obviously feeling the heat, too.

"Forty-eight. Water's in the cooler under the table," he says after a minute. "I thought we had more copies of _XOXO_ than this. Sehun? Where's the other crate?"

Chanyeol crawls forward and rolls the lid of the cooler up. He takes two water bottles out, hands one up to Kyungsoo and puts the second one at the nape of his own neck. There's a moment where he's pretty convinced he just ascended, but then there's condensation dribbling down his spine and Kyungsoo's leaning forward to smack Sehun upside the head.

"Ow, shit! What?" Sehun demands, whipping around. His elbow misses Chanyeol's forehead by millimeters, and Chanyeol reaches out to shove him gently in retaliation.

"I said, where are the other copies of the first CD?" Kyungsoo says patiently. The bottle's seal breaks with a loud zip. He tips his head back and empties a little water in his mouth, careful not to put his lips on the rim, even though it's a fresh bottle of water.

Sehun looks sheepish. "Well."

"Sehun."

"We hardly sell any of them, so I figured this would be enough for today and I could leave the rest in the trailer. They're so heavy—"

Kyungsoo stops mid-waterfall, water dribbling messily down his chin, and pinches Sehun in the side, exactly where the entire band knows he's the most ticklish. Sehun flails and clubs his knee on the underside of the table in his haste to get out of Kyungsoo's reach.

( _"It's useful to know the weak spots of all your employees,"_ Kyungsoo'd told Chanyeol once, _"just in case,"_ and ever since Chanyeol's been relentlessly vigilant about not fucking up in front of him because he knows Kyungsoo will go straight for his neck.)

"Ow! Come on, that's not fair," Sehun says, rubbing the wounded joint with a sullen expression on his face.

"Fair? Chanyeol does all the gear before and after every show by himself. You have to carry—"

"Two boxes of CDs—four tubs of t-shirts, a tub full of sweatshirts, _these_ fucking things." Sehun holds up a box of cheap-looking black beanies with the band's name— _fistful of assholes_ — embroidered on them in white block letters. One of Baekhyun's ideas for merchandise, if it wasn't painfully obvious. "And—a box of pins and stickers and shit. Plus the dolly and the tent and the tables—"

"—you _realize_ that's the fucking point, right? Like, that's your job. That's all you have to do, and then you get to sit here all day—"

"Yeah, in this chair, which has been eating my ass—"

"Who's eating your ass? Looks like we arrived just in time for the party."

Chanyeol looks up as Baekhyun's shadow falls on him. He looks like he managed to sweet-talk someone into letting him use a shower. Chanyeol's momentarily overwhelmed by the cloud of Old Spice body wash and whatever the fuck else, some perfumed shampoo marketed to the ladies. Hair's perfectly styled to cover his right eye, pair of sunglasses hanging from the collar of his pristine white t-shirt. His jeans don't even have grass stains on them. He looks exactly like he's not trying at all, and that almost makes it worse. Vain motherfucker.

He's got his best friend Jongdae in tow. Jongdae's the lead singer of the new electro-rock group _Life's Unfair and the Why Mes_. They're having a great summer, thanks to a boost in popularity after one of their songs was featured on an episode of _Grey's Anatomy_. He doesn't look like he came from the same mold as most of the pale, lanky musician types milling around the Tour, with his neatly coiffed hair, and muscled arms that suggest he spends a lot of time at the gym. Tight jeans and a black tank top that reveals an elaborately-drawn dinosaur tattoo on his right shoulder. A pair of matching gauged silver earrings. He's a lot smilier, too.

Baekhyun and Jongdae have known each other for years and Chanyeol still can't quite pinpoint the nature of their relationship. They're always needling at one another, talking shit about each other's vocal and songwriting abilities, but there was that one split show at a club in Seattle where Chanyeol had gone into the green room for something and found them dry humping on the couch, Jongdae in between Baekhyun's legs. He looks for some sort of hidden meaning in every interaction they have, now—trying to parse it out somehow—but really, they're an enigma.

"Kyungsoo," Jongdae greets, flashing him an easy smile. "How's it been?" His eyes slide to Chanyeol, cheery grin still stretched across his face. "Chanyeol! Good to see you, too. Been a while. Why are you still working for this asshole?" He jerks his thumb at Baekhyun and steps aside just in time to dodge a blow.

"Stop trying to steal my techie," Kyungsoo says. "You want one of my employees, take this joker."

“Not a joker,” Sehun mutters, scowling, and turns his back on them to dig through a tub of t-shirts, trying to look busy so he can avoid any more of Kyungsoo's scorn.

"We've already got a pain-in-the-ass merch guy. Tao's exactly the same." Jongdae laughs. “But if you ever need a job, Chanyeol—"

"Hey, is that your sister?" Baekhyun interrupts Jongdae to point across his face and down the row of tents. He can only be talking to Chanyeol—his sister, Yura, works for Alternative Press as a journalist. She's been assigned to work summer blog coverage for the Tour and help out at the tent when she's not catching a show or sitting down with a band. Chanyeol actually hasn't seen her since the Tour began.

He gets to his feet and peers out. It's her, alright—lanyard around her neck, hair pulled up off her face. She's the spitting image of Chanyeol. There's such a strong family resemblance that they're often mistaken for twins, even though she's got three years on him.

She sees Baekhyun and Jongdae before she sees Chanyeol. "Byun!" she yells, voice an impressive alto that booms across the field. "What was that set this morning? Were you asleep? My grandma could've done better, and she's been dead for ten years."

"What set? Shit. Did they let my doppelgänger onstage again?" Baekhyun teases. "I'm just here to get a tan."

"Hey. Reporters don't get to talk to the talent without my permission," Kyungsoo says, a rare grin splitting his mouth wide. Yura looks around with exaggerated shock.

"Talent? Where? I don't see any." She spots Chanyeol, then, and smiles. "Baby bro. Didn't see you hiding down there. I take it all back."

"Ah, the Park siblings," Baekhyun intones. "They're tall, they're beautiful, they're taking the world by storm."

"Good to see you too, Baekhyun," she says. He slings a friendly arm around her shoulders and pulls her close for a hug. Even though she's only wearing a pair of red Chucks—impressively immaculate, considering her morning spent in the mosh pits—it's still a little bit of a stretch for him. She actually has to bow her head when she kisses him on the cheek.

"I see why you like hanging out with these guys," Yura says to Chanyeol, looping her other arm around Jongdae's waist. "I feel like a giant. It's so cool. Your own little gang of hobbits."

Kyungsoo's normally the first one to retaliate an insult to his height with a biting comment, but he's oddly silent, smiling at the grass like he's—shy? embarrassed? Something's off. Chanyeol puts his hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder and squeezes, hoping Kyungsoo can feel the question mark in his fingers.

"I've got to go talk to Ken," Kyungsoo announces suddenly, getting to his feet. "Bus call stuff. I'll be back. Behave—if that's possible. And Sehun. Try to sell some shit, please, or I'm going to fire you and give Yura your job, instead."

"What makes you think you can afford me?" Yura bites back, eyes twinkling. Kyungsoo laughs appreciatively, nodding to himself as he goes.

 

  
**dallas, texas. june 15.**

"You think they're fucking?" Baekhyun asks for the nth time since he'd arrived backstage for soundcheck. He's wearing an impressive amount of eyeliner for someone who literally just rolled out of his bunk twenty minutes ago, and even though it's not even nine o'clock in the morning yet, he's practically vibrating with energy. This is his wheelhouse, though. He's a natural-born performer. The stage is his place of business, and he doesn't ever give anything less than two hundred percent. Chanyeol's seen him sick as a dog, pale and sweaty with fever, his voice eroded by a sore throat that won't quit—and then he gets out there and the audience cheers and he's a whole new man. It's like he's feeding on their life force, or something.

Unfortunately, his enthusiasm sometimes comes off as—well. Baekhyun Byun is a shit.

"That's my sister you're talking about," Chanyeol says, eyebrows drawing together into a deep frown.

"Yeah. I know." Baekhyun flexes his fingers a few times, trying to loosen them up before he has to go out and plunk out a few chords on the keyboard to make sure it's been hooked up into the soundboard alright. "You act like we didn't grow up together. She's practically _my_ sister. I know I think of her that way."

Chanyeol almost feels guilty about this. Baekhyun's technically right. Growing up back in the old neighborhood, the Byuns and the Parks had adjacent yards with no fence in between—big enough for the four kids to play soccer, build forts, and find plenty of trouble. Chanyeol even thinks of Baekbeom as something of an older brother, even though it's been years since he's seen him. There's a long pause, filled with the sound of amp feedback and cranky techs shouting at each other to _get out of the fucking way_.

"But really, though," Baekhyun says, breaking the silence between them. "Your sister and Kyungsoo."

Chanyeol's irritation flares again. "Are just friends."

"With benefits?"

Chanyeol pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

  
**albuquerque, new mexico. june 17**

Bus call's not until 1:00AM, so after the trailer's packed up for the night's drive and the dinner things have been cleared away, Chanyeol pulls out his acoustic guitar and sits out behind the bus, running his fingers along the strings, humming to himself.

Kyungsoo comes out and sits next to him. "Got a light?" he asks, cigarette already between his lips. Chanyeol shakes his head. Doesn't smoke—can't stand the taste of it or the inevitable sore throat the next morning. Kyungsoo moves to stand but then Sehun and Baekhyun are there. Sehun's already halfway through his cigarette, and he slips him a red plastic Bic so Kyungsoo doesn't have to go anywhere after all.

They get on the subject of music—like it's not enough that they've spent all week living and breathing it, they've got to fill their downtime with it, too. Yixing and Lu Han arrive and start rehashing the old vinyl versus digital debate, which is going to drive Chanyeol fucking crazy if that's all they talk about for the rest of the summer. Jongdae shows up at some point with a couple six packs of beer and passes them out to anyone who wants one. Chanyeol's amazed to find the bottles are actually cold. He takes Kyungsoo's out of his hand and uses his capo as a makeshift bottle opener.

"Cheers." Kyungsoo taps the neck of his bottle against Chanyeol's in thanks.

"You know," Baekhyun says without making eye contact, more interested watching the tip of Jongdae's cigarette glow orange in the settling twilight than looking at Chanyeol. "You've never let us hear any of your stuff. If it's good, maybe we can work some of it into the setlist."

"Nah, it's cool," Chanyeol says, suddenly shy. The tips of his ears burn red with self-consciousness. He's been tinkering around with a few things but it feels too much like weird nepotism to give his demo to the people he works with. They're his _friends_. And it feels sort of wrong, somehow, to use them as a leg up. "Besides, I didn't go to music school, I can't even read it. I'm just sort of making it up, it's not really any good—"

"You think everyone here has a degree?" Jongdae asks, gesturing across the field of parked buses. "Hardly anyone does. Hardly any of these fools even graduated from high school."

" _You_ barely did, and look at you now!" Baekhyun says, taking a long swig of beer. Jongdae elbows him in the side and the two break away from the main conversation to tussle.

Yixing stands up to lean forward and pat Chanyeol on the shoulder. "I don't think musical talent can be defined by a letter grade," he says, smiling gently. "There's a lot more to it than that."

♮♮♮

Much, much later, once they're back on the road, Chanyeol sits in his bunk with his laptop out, balanced precariously on one knee. It's late, and the lights in the bus are off, but the eerie blue glow of the laptop screen is easy enough to spot leaking through the edges of the drawn curtain. Chanyeol thinks he's the only one awake anymore, but then Kyungsoo pokes his head in and holds out his hand, waiting for Chanyeol to help him up. Chanyeol, of course, obliges.

"I didn't know you were awake," he says, moving over to make room for Kyungsoo, who folds his legs underneath him and sits, hands on his knees. He's still in his clothes from earlier.

"What are you doing?" he asks. The bus lurches beneath them to avoid a pothole. Both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo reach out for the laptop at the same time. Chanyeol's grip on it is strong, but Kyungsoo keeps his hand braced against the lid just the same, just in case.

"Just messing around," Chanyeol says, minimizing _ProTools_ even though it's too late.

"Composing again," Kyungsoo says, and he's only half-asking, because he knows that's what Chanyeol's usually up to at this hour when he's tucked away by himself with a large pair of studio headphones around his neck. "Let me hear what you've got."

"It's not finished."

"I don't care. Let me hear anyway."

Chanyeol hesitates, then holds the headphones open and gently slips them over Kyungsoo's ears. Kyungsoo closes his eyes and puts his hands over the headphones to hold them close, help him concentrate on what he's listening to. Chanyeol can't even breathe until it's over and Kyungsoo's looking at him again, soft smile pressing into the corners of his mouth as he pulls off the headphones.

"It sounds good," he says, and Chanyeol exhales in relief. "You've really never let Baekhyun listen to any of your stuff?"

"No," says Chanyeol. "Just you."

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "That's stupid. He's asking you—they'll put it on the next record, Chanyeol. Your stuff's good enough—as good as Yixing's, maybe better, if I'm being completely honest with you. That's a huge break—"

"I know," Chanyeol says quickly, holding up his hand. "It's a nice offer. I don't know, though. I guess when I wrote these, I was hoping. I don't know. That it'd be me. Out on my own." He mumbles the last part, stringing the words together into one long slur he directs at the curtain instead of at Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo watches him for a moment, eyes wide and shining in the dark. "Oh," he says, voice suddenly soft. "Yeah, okay. I get that."

 

  
**mesa, arizona. june 18.**

There's a select group of diehard _Assholes_ fans from way back who have been going to shows since the early days, when they were opening for bigger bands and performing in exchange for free beer instead of cold hard cash. They're the familiar faces in the crowd, the ones who yell Chanyeol's name when he comes onstage during soundcheck to make sure Yixing's pedal setup is working properly. He grins and tosses a fistful of picks into the audience, inciting a minor scuffle at the barricade.

"You love doing that," Kyungsoo remarks, smiling, when Chanyeol finally comes backstage. "You're so easy. Just because they know your name."

Chanyeol lifts a shoulder to his ear. "What can I say? They're my people."

Kyungsoo shoves him into a nearby amp and dodges the rebound, laughing.

 

  
**las vegas, nevada. june 19.**

They get into Vegas early. Baekhyun's supremely disappointed that they're not allowed to go hit up the casinos after their set and keeps whining about it to anyone who will listen. Chanyeol's relieved when Baekhyun stops bugging him and latches onto Yixing instead—he's got four guitars to restring, and Yixing's a professional at patiently pretending to listen to Baekhyun's complaints without actually catching a word.

Kyungsoo looks fucking wiped. The dark circles under his slow-blinking eyes make him look even more murderous than usual. He keeps rubbing at his contacts because they're too dry. Being in the middle of the desert really isn't helping. Chanyeol can't hook him up with any eye drops, but he does sneak off to the food truck when he has a minute and brings back a couple cans of Red Bull, still frosty and wet with condensation.

"For you," he says, tucking the extra can into Kyungsoo's pocket. "Drink. Wake up."

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. "I hate this shit."

"Drink it anyway," Chanyeol says, popping the tab and pushing the can into Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo's expression becomes even more scornful, which is impressive, considering how disgusted he looked before. He glances at the can, then back at Chanyeol's face.

"Did you wash your hands?"

"Today, you mean?" Chanyeol asks, looking at his grubby palms. They've certainly seen better days, but it's hard to tell how much of the dirt is just permanently ground into his skin from hauling amps on and off the trailer.

Kyungsoo scoffs and goes to tip the can upside down, but Chanyeol rescues it, wipes it off with the edge of his (mostly clean) shirt and offers it back to him. Kyungsoo's lip curls reluctantly, but he drinks it anyway.

 

  
**pomona, california. june 20.**

Yura comes to watch the _Assholes_ from backstage with Chanyeol tonight. She keeps tweeting pictures to her official AP account, including a selca with Chanyeol after he comes offstage from switching guitars out with Yixing for the last half of the set. He hasn't showered in three days and he's dripping with sweat. It's gotta be pushing a hundred degrees today in the direct sunlight and there's barely any air circulating backstage at all. He knows he smells terrible.

Yura, on the other hand, looks and smells like she's managed to take a shower sometime within the past twelve hours. Her makeup's barely smudged by sweat. She flashes the phone screen at him quickly after she takes the picture, long enough for him to realize he's got dirt on one cheek and his hair is so greasy underneath his snapback that it's actually holding the hat on. Next to that mess, she... looks like a model. She probably planned it that way.

She writes, "Baby bro~!" underneath it and sends it off anyway.

"I can't believe you did that," he grumbles. Onstage, Baekhyun yells something into the microphone and the crowd responds with a whooping cheer. Yura joins in, shrieking so loudly that Chanyeol has to put his hands over his ears to avoid going temporarily deaf.

"Did what?" she asks innocently when the ruckus dies down and Lu Han starts counting off for the next song. "Is this about your vanity again?"

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Maybe."

"Aw. Don't worry," she says. "You've just made all the teenage girls who follow me because I'm your sister very, very happy."

"Thanks," he says dryly. "You're a pal."

Undeterred by his sulking, she grabs his wrist and pulls his arm out straight in front of her so she can get a better look at the tattoo sleeve he's been working on since he turned eighteen.

"You've added to it since the last time I saw it," she says, hand smoothing up the large, elaborately-drawn phoenix on his forearm. The tail winds up his arm to where it tapers off in a flaming bass clef wrapped around his elbow. Beyond that, more music imagery he's been collecting here and there over the years: an old radio microphone, a pair of headphones, the black and white pattern of a keyboard wrapped around his bicep. Obediently, he rolls his shoulder so she can see the curl of ink on the inside of his arm to where it disappears inside his shirt. The piece has expanded onto his chest now.

"Mom's going to kill you, you know," Yura says fondly, patting the ink winding up his wrist. He knows she's got some tattoos of her own. Delicate ones, though, and all easily hidden during family visits, like that flower on her ankle she'd gotten in college. He knows there's a treble clef on her left hip. Her newest tattoo, done by some hotshot in Indianapolis, is a large black and white sketch of a kneeling girl with a fairy cupped in her hands that stretches across the right side of her rib cage. It's beautiful. It's also pretty fucking huge. If anyone should be worried about being murdered by their mother, it's probably Yura.

He shrugs. "They gave up on trying to stop me from getting any more a long time ago. Mom's made her peace."

Kyungsoo comes ambling up behind them, half-finished bottle of water in his hand. "Sehun ran out of singles and nobody wanted to make change," he says. "Can't believe I had to find someone's car to borrow to go get change. Aren't we supposed to help each other out?"

Chanyeol pulls a face. "It was like this last year, too."

"I _know_. It was shit then, too." He looks up. "How's the set?"

"Good," Chanyeol assures him. "Baekhyun's been on his best behavior. Nothing's blown or snapped or broken."

Kyungsoo nods. "Well, they've got another song left. There's still time for them to fuck something up."

Chanyeol slings a sympathetic arm around Kyungsoo's narrow shoulders. He's obviously having one of those glass-half-empty days, and the heat's already making everyone testier than usual. Better to just let him get it out all at once instead of trying to tell him to calm down. Telling Kyungsoo not to take something so seriously almost always results in Kyungsoo redirecting his fury on you.

"Kyungsoo, you should get a tattoo," Yura says. He raises an eyebrow at her, scandalized at the suggestion. He shrugs off Chanyeol's arm.

"You're kidding, right?"

"It'd be hot. A neckpiece, maybe," she says, outlining the column of his throat with her index finger. Kyungsoo swallows hard, cheeks tinged red. Chanyeol pictures it for half a second and then has to stop because it _does_ sound pretty hot, but it's not any of his business.

"Not my neck," Kyungsoo says. "Needles—no."

"What do you think, Chanyeol?" Yura asks.

Chanyeol does his best to sound noncommittal. "Whatever he wants."

"I think you'd look really good," Yura insists. On stage, Lu Han's hitting everything on his drum kit as hard as he can, one descending, cacophonous roll, signaling that the set's over. Yura glances at her phone. "Alright. I'm going to try and head over to catch some of the bands at the main stage."

Kyungsoo watches her as she goes, fingers stroking absently at the skin of his throat.

 

**mountain view, california. june 21.**

It's late when it happens the first time. Long past when they'd normally be in bed and on the road, but the California shows are all close enough together that round-up doesn't happen until one in the morning. Lu Han procures an entire case of decent beer from only god knows where and brings it out to the circle of lawn chairs out behind the bus. Everyone's been drinking when Chanyeol hears shouting in the distance and the rumble of a bus engine turning over. It's time to leave.

Yixing starts methodically packing up the chairs, collecting the bits of trash in their area and stuffing them into the empty six pack carriers. Usually Kyungsoo's the one crawling on his hands and knees picking up wrappers and yelling, but he's nowhere to be seen this time. Chanyeol goes wandering, just past the circle of yellow thrown by the bus taillights, and finds him sitting all alone on the steps of the bus, half-finished bottle of beer warm and dangling from between two fingers. He looks up when Chanyeol calls his name.

"Oh, it's you," he says, words slurring together. Chanyeol bursts out laughing. He's never seen Kyungsoo quite this drunk on tour before—not the night before a performance, at least. He's slow to recover from his hangovers. Which means he's going to be a miserable bastard tomorrow, but Chanyeol can't seem to care about that. The way Kyungsoo's face scrunches, the way he wobbles slowly to his feet, using his hands to inch up the body of the bus to hold himself steady—it's, well. Adorable's the only word that comes close, even if they'll have to pay for it tenfold the next day.

"It's me," Chanyeol confirms. He holds Kyungsoo by the shoulders and marvels at how compact Kyungsoo's body is. Kyungsoo's shoulders disappear into Chanyeol's palms so easily, like Chanyeol's one step away from cupping Kyungsoo in his hands like a bird.

"It's you," Kyungsoo repeats, more slowly this time. His whole face gets in on the action when he blinks. "I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Thought about what?" Chanyeol prompts gently. Kyungsoo's just rambling at this point. Chanyeol narrows his eyes. It's hard to tell in this light if Kyungsoo is pale and about to get ill, or if he's just the right amount of fucked up to be poured into his bunk to sleep for the rest of the night. Chanyeol's hand covers Kyungsoo's to gently tug the beer away. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm." Kyungsoo presses his lips together and looks up at Chanyeol. His eyes are wide—owlish, almost—his pupils blown wide and inky black. "Okay," he decides, and then reels Chanyeol in by the hair to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

 

**ventura, california. june 22.**

They don't talk about it.

There's no time, not when Yixing's amp blows a fuse half an hour before their set and Kyungsoo goes nuts trying to borrow one off another band just for the afternoon. Chanyeol likes it better that way, when everyone's too wrapped up in the bustle of the show to sit down and shoot the shit. He's thankful, at least for now, to have the time to himself while he tries to figure out what the hell happened. Kyungsoo's noticeably hungover well into the late afternoon and predictably irritated, even after Chanyeol brings him coffee and four Advil. Kyungsoo tips the pills down his throat all at once and washes them down with the coffee, grimacing.

He softens just enough to remember to thank Chanyeol, and when he finally looks up Chanyeol realizes that he probably doesn't remember what happened at all and he's been agonizing over what to say when it's nothing to Kyungsoo, like it didn't even happen.

 

**chula vista, california. june 25.**

After a few nights off and sleeping in a real bed, Chanyeol thinks he's pretty much over the weirdness with Kyungsoo. It's been one-sided weirdness, anyway. Kyungsoo was back to normal after his hangover wore off and he was able to get some real food into his system. Shit happens, especially on tour, especially when alcohol's involved. Nobody got hurt. And Kyungsoo's not even a sloppy kisser, so it was almost nice. If it had been on _purpose_ —

It wasn't on purpose. It doesn't matter. Kyungsoo's never given any indication of any sort of attraction to anyone, especially Chanyeol. He's too focused on making sure all of the band members are healthy and in one piece performing onstage instead of sitting in a holding cell. Kyungsoo's really good at his job, even if Baekhyun and Lu Han do make it hard on him sometimes.

Still. Chanyeol feels strange knowing he's carrying this secret around. Kyungsoo smiles at him and the word _oblivious_ flashes in front of Chanyeol's eyes for a moment. Then it's gone, and Kyungsoo's still smiling, and Chanyeol's ready to do whatever Kyungsoo's about to ask of him.

So, yeah. Nothing but business as usual.

 

**wheatland, california. june 26.**

When he really stops to think about it, Chanyeol's amazed they've made it this long without some sort of stupid shit injury. No pinched fingers or cuts, not even bruises, for almost an entire month. So of course Baekhyun takes a mic stand to the face during today's set. Chanyeol keeps playing the moment back in his head at half-speed, watching Baekhyun push the mic stand away and then step in at _exactly_ the wrong place to bring it catapulting squarely into his mouth. He's lucky he didn't break any teeth, but it still looks gruesome. Baekhyun pushes on regardless, finishing up the last two and a half songs like he's not in an incredible amount of pain.

When he comes offstage and grins at Chanyeol, wiping at his bloody chin with the back of his hand, his teeth are coated red.

"That's fucking gross," Chanyeol says, handing him a towel. Baekhyun holds it against his mouth and shrugs. The crowd behind him is still going nuts, chanting his name: _Baek-hyun-baek-hyun_.

"What the _fuck_ did you do?" Kyungsoo demands, forcing Baekhyun into a chair. He makes a few aborted attempts at grabbing Baekhyun's chin so he can assess the damage.

"I'm fine! Punk rock, man." Baekhyun pulls the towel away to throw Kyungsoo the sign of the horns with his long fingers. His smile is still tinged red. Lu Han walks by on his way offstage with Yixing, drumsticks in hand, and claps Baekhyun on the shoulder as he passes.

"Way to be, you crazy bastard," he says flatly, and then to Kyungsoo: "Can't you control this kid?"

"Many have tried," Kyungsoo says, turning back to Baekhyun. "You idiot. Stop bleeding on me."

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. "You're wearing black. How can you tell?"

Warped's medic is there already with a first aid kit. He's having a hard time getting Baekhyun to sit still long enough to get a good look at his mouth. Baekhyun keeps taking long swigs of water from a bottle and spitting on the ground by his feet. Chanyeol leaves them to it, partly because he's starting to get queasy looking at the way the towel's slowly turning red, partly because the next band's tech is already starting to put his hands on the equipment and _nobody's_ allowed to touch that keyboard but Chanyeol and Yixing. Not even Kyungsoo.

 

  
Chanyeol catches up with the rest of them later at the merch tent. Baekhyun's fast asleep in the captain's chair usually reserved for Kyungsoo. Jongdae's sitting in a chair next to him, holding an ice pack on Baekhyun's swollen lip. It seems to have stopped bleeding for now, at least.

"He kept dropping it," Jongdae explains. Baekhyun's eyelids flutter.

"Hmm," he says, and thrusts his arms out in a deep stretch. He nails Jongdae right in the jaw by accident.

"Wow, sabotage," Jongdae says, dropping the ice pack into Baekhyun's lap in favor of cupping his own face. "Trying to take out the competition?"

Baekhyun blinks sleepily. He's extra sluggish today, probably a combination of the heat and the pain of his injury. Still, he's not so out of it that he can't manage even a weak zinger in Jongdae's direction. "You're my competition? For what?"

"You're right. That's not fair. You know, maybe if you spent more time singing into the microphone and less time pretending it's a cock you're sucking—"

"Fuck you!" Baekhyun attempts, although his voice is muffled enough by the swelling that it comes out sounding more like _Fuhyuuuuu_.

 

**southeast auburn, washington. june 28.**

Baekhyun's lip is almost back to normal by showtime the next day. He keeps whining about it though, touching the raw split gingerly with the tip of his pinky and asking about plastic surgery. After the bands are done playing for the day, Yixing disappears for half an hour and comes back with a Slurpee from 7-Eleven which is just stupid and juvenile enough to work. Baekhyun spoons the slush into his mouth with the flared tip of the straw, his lips and tongue and teeth all stained raspberry blue. But it keeps him quiet. Chanyeol silently nominates Yixing for sainthood.

Yura even comes by the bus to see him. They're sitting out back again, sheltered from the sun by the shadow of the bus. They keep having to move every twenty minutes or so to stay in the shade.

"Hey, kid," she says, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. "Heard you took one to the face yesterday. Are you going to make it?"

"You should see the other guy," Baekhyun says, crossing his arms. Jongdae laughs so hard Baekhyun shoves him off the cooler. Dutifully, Chanyeol gets out of his own chair and stands aside, gesturing for Yura to sit down.

"No thanks, can't stay," she says, patting his cheek. "You've been trained well, though. I'll let Mom know you're taking care of me."

"Tell your mom I say hi," Baekhyun says immediately, simpering. The smile drops off her face with startling speed and she's halfway across the circle to grab at the collar of his shirt before Chanyeol can even attempt to get out of his chair to stop her.

"Listen," Yura says, pointing a quivering finger at him. "Unless you want a nose to match your lip, shut the fuck up, Byun."

Lu Han and Jongdae immediately start jeering. Even the low man on the totem pole, Sehun, manages a tiny smile before he covers it with his hand and pretends to be busy with his phone. A few buses over, somebody starts clapping.

"Just shut up," Jongdae says kindly, squeezing Baekhyun's knee. "It's better for everyone that way."

As Baekhyun settles back into his chair and sulks, Kyungsoo comes clambering off the bus, fingers flying across his cellphone. He stops short when he sees Yura and thrusts his phone back into his pocket, message obviously unsent.

"Oh," he says, looking genuinely surprised to see her there. "Hi."

"Hey," she says, and glances down at Chanyeol. She's trying to be surreptitious but Chanyeol grew up with her and knows her tics. She's terrible at keeping secrets. "I—am here."

"Yes. You are." Kyungsoo nods. "I needed to go—check the trailer."

"The trailer?" Chanyeol sits up. "I packed everything. We're good to go."

"Just to make sure," Kyungsoo says, and it's such an obvious fib that even Jongdae's raising his eyebrows. Chanyeol's incredibly efficient. There's never been a need to double-check his work before, and it's not even something Kyungsoo would normally be responsible for anyway.

"I'll come with you," Yura says. "I'm heading that direction anyway." She ruffles Chanyeol's hair as she passes. He's too shocked to even say goodbye, only watches Kyungsoo fall in step next to her and laugh as she slings an arm around his shoulders.

Everyone's weirdly quiet watching Kyungsoo and Yura walk away, even Baekhyun, who's normally the first to open his big mouth and say something for maximum awkwardness. Yixing clears his throat meaningfully and starts packing up his things. Lu Han trails along behind him.

"You think something's going on there?" Jongdae asks finally, breaking the silence.

Chanyeol thinks about the way Kyungsoo's mouth feels against his in the dark and doesn't have a clue what to say.

 

**portland, oregon. june 29.**

They've got the upcoming few days off and a long cross-country drive ahead of them, so they're confined to the bus for most of the weekend. Baekhyun sits in the back with Sehun watching anime on Netflix. Yixing's been asleep for hours and keeps slapping Lu Han every time he pokes his head in to tell him they've stopped for food or gas or bathroom breaks. The day stretches on like that—drive, stop, stretch the kinks out of their legs for a few minutes only to get back on the bus and do it all over again. When they stop it's late, and the motels are extra dingy, but even the steel wool sheets feel amazing to Chanyeol. He doesn't even care he has to share a room. Chanyeol relishes the opportunity to stretch out to his full height. The bunks on the bus aren't ideal for someone over six feet tall. He's stuck curled into the fetal position most nights, or sleeping with one leg dangling out of the privacy curtain. This—this is heaven.

Even if he has to share his room with Kyungsoo.

Not that it's a bad thing, normally. Kyungsoo's great to room with. But there's this underlying confusion towards the events of the past week that have Chanyeol on edge. Uncomfortable. He keeps opening his mouth to say something, starting it, and then trailing off, because he's too distracted thinking about the kiss, and then Yura, and what it all means. Kyungsoo's quieter than usual, too. He's only speaking when spoken to. It's freaking Chanyeol out. Kyungsoo's never been that way with him before.

When they check in, Kyungsoo claims the bed furthest from the bathroom. Takes a shower that lasts over forty minutes, and then pulls a fresh set of clothes on from his duffel bag.

"I'll be back. Don't wait up," he warns, tugging a black military cap over his head. He doesn't elaborate any further. Chanyeol's curiosity burns, but he doesn't ask.

And then Chanyeol's alone, watching the time creep into early morning on his phone. He takes a shower to kill some time but Kyungsoo's not back after Chanyeol gets out.

He's not back when Chanyeol gets sick of flipping through the four channels on the shitty TV and pulls out his laptop to work on his new composition. He's been toying with the melody line for a few days, borrowed from a riff Yixing had played during his warm-up the other day. Something's missing, but he can't quite figure out what it is. Thinking about Kyungsoo and what Kyungsoo could possibly be doing right now is fucking with his focus, so _that's_ a bust, too.

Kyungsoo's not back when Chanyeol finally gives up pretending he's not waiting for him to come back and turns off the lights to sleep.

But when Kyungsoo _does_ finally get in, it's late. He stumbles in, making enough noise that Chanyeol actually sits up in bed and flicks on the lamp, rubbing at his eyes with a balled fist. Kyungsoo's visibly drunk, his hair crushed under his cap, eyes bleary. He holds a finger to his lips and then face plants into bed next to Chanyeol.

"Um," Chanyeol says, shifting over to make room for Kyungsoo.

"Turn the lights off," Kyungsoo slurs. He's still fully-clothed. He smells like cigarettes and weed and cheap beer and cologne, but also women's perfume, and Chanyeol feels sick. He recognizes the perfume as the same one Yura wears. It's pretty damning evidence.

"Where did you go?" he asks, trying to sound casual.

"Turn the lights off," Kyungsoo says again, more plaintively this time. He looks and sounds so vulnerable like this, inching his way into Chanyeol's space, nuzzling his face into Chanyeol's pillow, forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. He's so close to Chanyeol, his breath warm on Chanyeol's cheek. "It's late."

"I know it's late," Chanyeol says patiently and reaches across Kyungsoo to switch the lamp off. The room plunges into darkness.

"Thank you," Kyungsoo says. Then, a repeat from the other night: "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me." Chanyeol tugs the covers up over Kyungsoo's shoulders and settles back down at a respectful distance from Kyungsoo's face, far enough that he can't smell the alcohol on his breath anymore. "Go to sleep."

 

**maryland heights, missouri. july 2.**

"Fucking shit. Fucking fuck shit fuck. Chanyeol! Where the hell are you?"

The bus door wrenches open and the voice becomes much louder. It's so early the sun hasn't even risen properly. They'd arrived at the Amphitheatre late the night before and even though they've been parked for hours now, Chanyeol still feels the phantom swaying of the bus rolling down the highway.

He knows it's Kyungsoo by the tight way the bus door slams shut. Kyungsoo takes the steps two at a time, yanks back the curtain of Chanyeol's bunk and flings a heavy, double-issue of a magazine squarely into Chanyeol's stomach.

Chanyeol cracks open an eye and looks at what's just been thrown at him. Alternative Press. The August issue. Kyungsoo's face is looming dangerously close to Chanyeol's face, his eyes narrowed. Chanyeol sits up quickly and bangs his head on the top of the bunk above him.

Fucking Baekhyun. Not fair he got the top bunk.

"Your sister," Kyungsoo begins accusingly. Chanyeol scrubs a hand down his face and exhales loudly. He knows exactly what's coming. The _Assholes_ just released a new album at the beginning of the tour. There's supposed to be a review and a mini-feature in the August AP. Yura had given him a head's up and let him see an advance copy. It's... not all that favorable. The new guy in charge of music reviews is a big electro nut and keeps turning up his nose at anything that sounds a little more second-wave. By all accounts, Yura really doesn't get along with him. Last time she'd mentioned him, the words _festering douchebag_ came up. So it's not all that surprising that Kyungsoo's pretty pissed off about it.

"Don't be mad at Yura. She wasn't even in charge of that write-up. They said she couldn't be objective since—"

"It's _anything_ but objective. Did you even read it? 'Mediocre, watered-down pop-punk reminiscent of a Motion City Soundtrack cover band'? Seriously? A thousand comparisons to fucking New Found Glory, some shit about a throwback to the early '00's and a truly moronic feature that talks more about speculations of Baekhyun's rumored slump last year than anything about the band or the new album or anything we actually want to talk about. I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at _you_."

Everyone on the bus is awake by now. Kyungsoo's speaking in his authoritative voice, which means any buses in a twenty-yard radius are probably having trouble sleeping, too. Baekhyun's not even pretending not to eavesdrop. He pokes his head out of the curtain and hangs over the edge of his bunk just far enough that Chanyeol can see the halo of bed head.

"Me?" Chanyeol asks. "Why? I didn't write it."

"You knew it was coming and you didn't warn me."

Kyungsoo's got a point. "They said Baekhyun's vocals were good," Chanyeol offers. "I think they used the word soaring."

"Soaring," Baekhyun echoes smugly. Kyungsoo's head snaps up, glaring in Baekhyun's direction.

"Yeah, because _you_ need any more ego inflating. We'll put it on your tombstone, because after I kill Chanyeol, I'm going to kill you."

Baekhyun makes an indignant noise and disappears back inside his bunk. Somewhere further down the aisle, Lu Han laughs. Chanyeol's heard this spiel so many times it's all but lost its impact on him. Kyungsoo's threats are a lot of bluster, but he'd never actually do anything. Chanyeol turns and stifles a yawn into the pillow.

"Well? Are you getting up?" Kyungsoo demands, knee sinking into the small of Chanyeol's back. Chanyeol leaps up again, striking his head on the bottom of Baekhyun's bunk for the second time that morning. Baekhyun snickers.

"Yeah," Chanyeol says, vision bleary. He blinks a few times to clear the stars out of his eyes.

Kyungsoo watches him rub the top of his head and ruffles his hair in a moment of pity. Chanyeol groans sleepily, relishing the way the hair on his arms and the back of his neck raises at the sudden contact. Hoping to encourage more of the same, Chanyeol leans into Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo seems to realize his mistake just as quickly and feints a punch to his jaw.

"Still mad at you," he says, and disappears.


	2. Chapter 2

**noblesville, indiana. july 3.**

"Hey. Have you seen Baekhyun around?" Jongdae asks, and the question makes Chanyeol pause as he's coiling up extension cords. The first leg of the tour, Baekhyun and Jongdae were inseparable, practically attached at the hip. Considering Chanyeol's inadvertent voyeurism in days past, he's fairly certain they're attached in several other places whenever they get some time alone on a bus.

"Just whistle and call his name," Chanyeol teases. "He'll come running if it's you."

Jongdae laughs, but he's fiddling with his earrings, a sure sign that he's not being completely forthright with Chanyeol.

"What's going on?"

Jongdae sighs loudly and leans against the edge of the amp, chin on his fist. "I think that AP review of the album really bummed him out. That whole article... I mean, I know your sister works there, but it was—"

"Shitty, I know," Chanyeol finishes for him. "I agree. So does Yura, for what it's worth." He frowns. "Baekhyun seemed okay with it yesterday, though."

Jongdae shrugs. "I think he worries what you guys think. After the hiatus and everything. He still thinks it was his fault."

Fault is a strong word. The hiatus _had_ been because of Baekhyun, but for a situation out of his control. About a year earlier, Baekhyun had started struggling with his voice. It kept cracking and splitting and suddenly Baekhyun couldn't trust his voice to be there when it always had been reliable before. His throat hurt, too, and he kept complaining about sore throats and swollen glands until Kyungsoo had forcibly taken him to the doctor. The doctor removed his tonsils _and_ a small node, and put him on vocal rest for what was meant to be a month. It stretched into four months, four long months that delayed their recording for the next album, four months where the others wrote songs for a band whose future was up in the air and subbed in other bands while they waited for their lead vocalist to come back.

"It wasn't his fault," Chanyeol says. "Shit happens."

"That's what I kept saying. But that bad review really crushed him, I think. He was really happy with the album, especially after everything. Just—you know. Talk to him, when you get a chance. I figured he wouldn't approach you first, but I thought you should know."

"Yeah," Chanyeol agrees. "Thanks, Jongdae."

 

**toronto, ontario. july 4.**

They spend American Independence Day in Canada.

To make up for the fact that they're not going to see any fireworks, the food service truck does a barbecue for everyone. There's plenty of food and beer left over even after most of the concertgoers have gone home for the night. Chanyeol's grateful that round-up isn't until late again. They've crossed the country in the past week and right now he'd rather chew off his left arm than get back on that bus.

Yixing settles down with his acoustic and starts taking requests. He indulges the clusters of people gathered to hear him and plays everything he knows, even the really stupid requests for Christmas music and _God Save The Queen_ coming from Sehun and Tao. Everyone's in a good mood because it's a nice night, even Baekhyun, although he's much quieter than he usually is. Jongdae's trying to get Baekhyun to sing duets with him (" _I'll even sing the girl parts! C'monnnnn_!") and Baekhyun's laughing instead of looking glum like he has been the past few days, so that's an improvement, too. And really, everyone should be happy: the shows have been going well, attendance has been up, fans have been great, and the merchandise has been selling well. Even the new album.

Chanyeol moves just far enough out of the circle to get some clean grass to stretch out on and lies back, hands on his stomach, feeling the warmth of the ground beneath him. The last rays of sunlight disappear beyond the horizon. Chanyeol knows he should probably get up and move closer to where the others are, where the light is, but he's too comfortable.

Kyungsoo totters over to where Chanyeol's sprawled out in the grass and drops to his knees, heavily, like he's a much bigger man than his five and a half feet. Chanyeol looks up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, but he just sits there smiling at Chanyeol, eyes a little glassy.

"You looked lonely," Kyungsoo confesses after a moment. He slides his hand onto Chanyeol's thigh and squeezes. "Don't be lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Chanyeol says, laughing. He's had a couple beers too, and after a long day in the sun he's definitely feeling them. When he shakes his head, the world swims.

"You promise?" Kyungsoo asks, looking dead serious. "You'd tell me, right?"

"You're here," Chanyeol says. He slips a hand over Kyungsoo's and squeezes it. "I'm not lonely."

Kyungsoo grins. "Good," he says, sinking to his elbows. He just lies there for a while, not saying anything, hand still tucked in Chanyeol's. He's slowly stroking Chanyeol's knuckles with his thumb and the expression on his face looks like he's thinking hard about something.

Chanyeol finally works up enough nerve to ask Kyungsoo: "Are _you_ lonely?"

Kyungsoo looks like he's considering it. He's curled up under Chanyeol's arm again, like he was the other night at the motel. "Sometimes," he decides. "Sometimes I'm really lonely." He inches his face closer and drops a shy kiss on the side of Chanyeol's mouth, then buries his face underneath Chanyeol's ear, embarrassed.

Chanyeol pulls Kyungsoo's body closer to his chest, arm looped around Kyungsoo's narrow waist. "What was that for?" he asks, suddenly hyperaware of everything around them. The prickle of grass underneath his bare arms, the quiet chugging of Yixing's guitar, Jongdae's high, clear voice working through a cover of Fall Out Boy's _My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon_ over everyone else's conversations.

"Just wanted to," Kyungsoo says.

"What about Yura?"

"Where's Yura?" Kyungsoo asks stupidly. He's fiddling with the collar of Chanyeol's t-shirt and the soft brush of fingertips on Chanyeol's collarbones is driving him crazy. Chanyeol freezes at the question, though, and there's a sinking feeling in his stomach. Kyungsoo's really just looking for Yura, not him.

"With the AP guys, I guess," Chanyeol says. He starts to roll away, trying to extract himself out from underneath Kyungsoo's weight. Kyungsoo clings harder.

"Stop moving. I'm comfortable," he whines. "Just until we have to leave."

"Okay," Chanyeol soothes, patting his back. "I won't." He feels so tired now and he's worried someone like Baekhyun's going to come over and make a big deal about the two of them spooning by themselves in the grass. Then again, everyone's been drinking, and they all tend to get a little handsy when they're drunk, so maybe nobody will notice at all. Hesitantly, he tosses a leg over Kyungsoo's to keep him close while he listens to Kyungsoo's slow breathing even out.

 

**montreal, quebec. july 5.**

There's a problem with the band that plays the 7:00-7:30 slot on their stage. After some shuffling, _Fistful of Assholes_ gets tapped to cover the spot. It's a good opportunity for them, honestly—gives them exposure during a prime performance time, and by 7:00 the sun isn't so high in the sky, so at least the stage isn't quite so sweltering. Kyungsoo promises it won't be for the rest of the tour and brings Chanyeol a pulled pork sandwich from the food truck as a consolation prize for missing dinner to set up. He's back to his normally stoic self, too businesslike to even stop and watch while Chanyeol's doing soundcheck. He's gone a minute later, and then Baekhyun's fussing about his earpiece so Chanyeol's too busy to worry about it.

Right after the band goes on, Jongdae pulls up a seat next to Chanyeol backstage and punches him in the thigh by way of saying hello.

"What are you doing here?" Chanyeol asks, speaking loudly over Baekhyun's warm-up speech to the crowd. He sounds good. Completely like his old self with the way he's cracking jokes and mugging for the front row. Jongdae frowns at Chanyeol, then points at his ear. Chanyeol notices the nubs of orange foam wedged into Jongdae's ear canal and nods to show he understands. Then the _Assholes_ launch into their opening song—their first single, _Always Eleven_ , which never fails to get the crowd roaring, and any hope of conversation is gone. He catches Jongdae in his peripheral vision singing along, head tipped back and belting at the top of his lungs, the sound swallowed by the nearby amps.

And then Kyungsoo's there, sliding his hands down Chanyeol's shoulders to let them rest on the base of his neck. Chanyeol's far too tall for Kyungsoo to do this when they're both standing. He tips his head back just far enough to make eye contact. Kyungsoo glances down at him and in his smile there's a flash of recognition of what they'd done the night before. There's no convincing himself now: Chanyeol knows that Kyungsoo remembers. He can tell. It's written on his face, plain as day. Kyungsoo goes wooden, smile nervous and faltering off his face, as he steps away to send a text message to someone.

Chanyeol wants to follow him, but he doesn't know what he'd even say. He's got a lot of questions about _what this is_ but isn't sure he wants to know the answers.

 

**holmdel, new jersey. july 6.**

Chanyeol's trying to steal a quick fifteen minute nap in his bunk after the set when the door slams open and Yura's voice rings out in the tiny space: "Chanyeol? Brother of mine? You in here?"

"Girl on the bus!" Baekhyun bellows from somewhere in the back, the sound amplified by hands cupped around his mouth. "Hope you're all decent."

Yura scoffs and calls back, "Like you're ever decent, Baekhyun."

"I get by!"

Chanyeol sticks his head out of his bunk, squinting at Yura's blurry silhouette as she picks her way down the bus's narrow aisle, hands braced on the walls at either side.

"Yura?" He squints and blinks furiously, trying to get his contacts to unfold themselves in his eyes and start doing their job. "It's—five o'clock in the afternoon. Don't you have shows to cover?"

She lifts a shoulder, holds out her hand. "Wanted to hang out with you. Come on, let's go walk around."

 

When he sees her out in the sunlight, he can't help but laugh. She's wearing a _Fistful of Assholes_ shirt, cut up the sides and tied in a row of neat little knots that follow the curve of her ribcage. She hands him a bottle of water and pushes her sunglasses up her nose.

"Nice shirt," he says.

"Sehun gave it to me," she says, linking her elbow with his to lead him down the row of merch tents. "I told him I was family of the band and I was supposed to have one."

"He's not supposed to do that." Chanyeol laughs again, but he's shaking his head too. "Kyungsoo's going to kill him for doing that. And maybe you, too."

"He won't kill me," Yura says confidently, "he likes me," and suddenly everything's weird. Chanyeol stiffens and drops his arm away from hers, then realizes his mistake and tries to cover for it by going for his phone. 

Yura senses it immediately anyway, her sisterly instincts on high alert. She stops short, right in front of the _Why Mes_ tent, and ignores Tao's attempts to say hello. Chanyeol manages a small wave down by his waist. Tao notices the look on Yura's face and backs away to deal with a customer.

"Speaking of Kyungsoo," Yura says, slow and deliberate. "Do you like him?" She puts a rubber band in her mouth and rakes her bobbed hair back into a short ponytail at the base of her neck. Her eyes never leave his face. She's being his sister right now, but she's also being a journalist—investigating, getting to the bottom of things. And he just doesn't want this to be one of her scoops, not when he's still trying to figure it out himself.

He turns his back, pointedly ignoring the question as he busies himself looking at the _Why Mes_ shirts on display. They're all pretty ugly, but they give him something to look at while he avoids his sister's stare.

"It's a simple yes-or-no question," she continues. "Do. You. Like. Him?"

It's not simple. It'd be simple if he knew. His stomach flips with nervous energy. "I like him fine. He's a good manager."

She shoots him a withering look. In that moment, she's a carbon copy of their mother. Not that he'd ever tell her that. "You know how I meant."

His lips press together, corners dipping into a frown. "No, I don't," he lies.

"Bullshit," she says, tilting her head against his shoulder. "You're like a puppy sometimes." Chanyeol remembers being much smaller. Closer to her size. "You follow him around like one."

"I do not," he says, shrugging her off. "Stop hanging out with Baekhyun."

"Like I'd hang out with Baekhyun," she scoffs.

"I've barely seen you all summer," Chanyeol points out. "I don't know who you're hanging out with." _Kyungsoo,_ his mind supplies. _You're hanging out with Kyungsoo and he doesn't want to talk to me about it._

"I was just asking," Yura says, a strange catch in her voice. She sounds almost hurt, but after that she changes the subject and doesn't bring it up again.

 

**darien, new york. july 8.**

Kyungsoo appears out of nowhere just as Chanyeol's finished loading the trailer, hands in his back pockets.

"You're all done, right?" Kyungsoo asks as Chanyeol clambers over an amp and steps, blinking, into the sunlight.

"I—yeah, I guess," Chanyeol says, scratching the back of his head before he replaces his cap over his tousled hair. Three days without a shower and he feels like dying. Usually Kyungsoo's too busy _supervising_ Sehun at the merch tent to come by during strike. "I was going to go crash in the bus for a few hours, if that's cool. Didn't sleep much last night—"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely. But you should come with me, first." Kyungsoo licks his lips nervously, offers Chanyeol a shy smile. "Please."

Kyungsoo instructs Chanyeol to complete a lot of things, but this is one of the few times he's asked Chanyeol for something outright with a smile on his face. Chanyeol knows he should probably be wary, but one brilliant flash of teeth and he's like so much putty in Kyungsoo's hands.

Yura's right. He _is_ a fucking puppy, and Kyungsoo's the one holding the leash.

 

Half an hour later, Chanyeol finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be: strapped inside the Superman Ride of Steel roller coaster, white-knuckling the edge of the seat like he can hold himself on the ground through sheer force of strength. "I can't believe you talked me into this," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I hate these things."

"I'm here," Kyungsoo says, swiping a thumb across the back of Chanyeol's hand. "Don't worry."

The climb is the worst part. The slow, creeping ascent that seems to take years (it's definitely taking years off his life). To add insult to injury, Kyungsoo keeps elbowing him and kicking at Chanyeol's ankles.

"Open your eyes," he shouts.

"I'm alright," Chanyeol says, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

"You can see the whole park from up here," Kyungsoo says. "Look, the stages! I think the _Why Mes_ are on right now. Chanyeol. Come on. Look! You're missing it!"

"I've seen the park already, I'm okay," Chanyeol says, afraid he's going to start babbling if he doesn't shut up. Kyungsoo laughs and then slips his hand around Chanyeol's, fingers reassuring and warm.

"I didn't realize you were such a big baby," he says. "You could've said no."

He could've, sure. But he didn't want to. Chanyeol never likes to say no to Kyungsoo, especially when it means spending more time with him. Kyungsoo doesn't ask for personal favors very often. Chanyeol's committed to saying yes first and asking what the favor entails later. It's usually not so bad—something like a wake-up call, an extra last-minute gig, or a week's delay on a paycheck. Something he can live with. Something that keeps his feet on the ground.

This, though? This is—

"I'm sorry," Kyungsoo says, breaking into his thoughts. He squeezes Chanyeol's hand a little tighter. "It'll be over soon. I promise. Just keep holding my hand."

Chanyeol winces, listening to the ratcheting click of the chain slow to a stop. They've reached the peak and he's changed his mind: _this_ is the worst part, the moment right before you fall, when you don't know when it's coming, or how it's going to feel, or how long it's going to last. The point of no return.

And then the car lurches forward.

He experiences weightlessness for two full seconds as the car hangs over the precipice, and then plunges. He opens his mouth to scream but his lungs are empty. It feels like they fall forever, Kyungsoo's fingers gripping his, his delighted laughter ringing in Chanyeol's ears over the screams of the other passengers in the car.

 

Kyungsoo has to unbuckle Chanyeol's safety belt for him at the end of the ride. Chanyeol's hands are shaking too hard to get a grip. He sits rigid with embarrassment, trying not to make eye contact with the ride operator, some pimply-faced teenager who looks on with poorly-concealed amusement at the stricken look on Chanyeol's face. Chanyeol's so freaked out he doesn't even think to notice the proximity of Kyungsoo's face to his, doesn't try to get another count of the tiny moles sprinkled down his neck, just to make sure he's got the number right. He closes his eyes and swallows, lets Kyungsoo lead him off the platform and out through the winding metal barricades.

The dried tears on Chanyeol's cheeks sting, skin stiff and salty. "You're okay," Kyungsoo says, pulling him aside to sit him down on a bench. "It's over."

"I know," Chanyeol says, but Kyungsoo has to pry Chanyeol's fingers off one by one in order to extract his hand from Chanyeol's iron grip. He's smiling when Chanyeol finally cracks open his eyes.

"Want to go again?"

"Hilarious," Chanyeol wheezes, feeling his stomach clench at the mere mention of a second trip. "But no. I'll watch you from down here."

"Nah," Kyungsoo says, using the pads of his thumbs to help clean Chanyeol's cheeks. "Not as much fun without you."

"I hate roller coasters," Chanyeol mutters, tilting his face down to make it easier on Kyungsoo. He can't quite bring himself to look Kyungsoo square in the eye, as though revealing this particular weakness has left him feeling too vulnerable.

"You should've said something before we got in line, then," Kyungsoo says reasonably, thumb slowing on the soft curve of Chanyeol's cheek. "I wouldn't have dragged you if I'd known."

Chanyeol doesn't know how to say, _There's not a lot I wouldn't do_. "What doesn't kill you, right?" he says, instead. When he finally looks up, Kyungsoo slides his hands to the base of Chanyeol's neck, holding him steady, forcing Chanyeol to look him straight in the eye.

"Don't worry. I won't tell Baekhyun you cried," Kyungsoo says, face splitting into a wide butterfly grin. For a moment, Chanyeol thinks—hopes—Kyungsoo's going to kiss him, in daylight this time, no alcohol required, but he steps back instead, slips his arm around Chanyeol's waist. "Your secret's safe with me."

 

**scranton, pennsylvania. july 9.**

As the summer's worn on, Sehun's gotten slower and slower with setting up the table and tearing it down at the end of the day. Sometimes it takes him so long that dinner's over and the trailer's already packed.

He's also spending more time with Yixing. Every time Chanyeol swings by the merch tent or the bus, Sehun's sitting next to Yixing, listening with rapt attention as Yixing explains the difference between all the pedals he uses during a given show. Chanyeol's never seen Sehun look so enthusiastic about anything in his life, so he cuts him a little slack and pulls up a chair to sell some CDs. And after an hour and fifteen minutes of money changing hands and mind-numbing small talk with teenagers, he gains a new appreciation for what Sehun does, and vows not to pick on him so much anymore. The kid's been working hard. He's earned the right to bitch about it.

 

**mansfield, massachusetts. july 10.**

Chanyeol goes to catch one of Jongdae's sets. He's been a casual fan ever since Jongdae gave him the CD, but he hasn't had much of a chance to see them live. He's always way too busy with the _Assholes_ to take the time off. The ringing in his ears hasn't stopped since they left Houston, so he's content to sit a few dozen yards back behind the rest of the crowd, eyes closed and listening to the way Jondgae's voice commands the amphitheater. Anyone in a mile radius can probably hear him with the way he's belting song after song into the microphone, held high over his head but close to his mouth like he's doing his best impression of Freddie Mercury.

Baekhyun wanders by and sits next to him to keep him company. Baekhyun's idea of _keeping someone company_ involves pulling fistfuls of grass from the lawn and dumping them in his victim's lap. Chanyeol lets it accumulate like so much green snow, knowing that if he gives Baekhyun even a little bit of attention, the grass will smother him to death.

"Takes me back," Baekhyun says, when he gets bored with the grass. He leans back and gestures at the swarm of moshing bodies huddled together against the front barricade. He's talking about the old band. _Black Pearl_. Chanyeol and Baekhyun had both been fairly serious about it—as serious as you can be about a band when you're sixteen years old and every song is about some nameless, faceless _somebody_ who ripped your fucking heart out and stomped on it.

Chanyeol leans back, legs crossed at the ankles, and shades his eyes with the flat of his hand. "Those were the days."

When Chanyeol thinks about it, this really should have been their gig. Their duo had had a few club engagements here and there—nothing big, but enough that they were known in the local punk scene and opened for most of the mid-tier bands who came through to play. Kyungsoo, too, had been around and played the underground club circuit. His music was more emo than anything else and sounded a lot like something that would have come out of a Chris Carrabba phase (but Chanyeol had never been stupid enough to say those words out loud to Kyungsoo. He values his neck too much to risk it being broken).

The _Assholes_ had been another local group, but bigger. _Opened for Green Day that one time_ kind of big, but then there had been a split and the original lead singer, Kevin, had defected to another scene and took half of the fan base with him. They'd borrowed Baekhyun for a weekend that turned into a month that turned into a recording session, a record deal, and finally a small national tour of their own. The rest was history.

No lead singer meant that _Black Pearl_ was dead, so Chanyeol stayed behind and worked at the local Guitar Center. At least, until Baekhyun got the bright idea to bring Chanyeol out on the road with them. It had started mostly as an excuse for Baekhyun to have someone to hang out with, but Chanyeol's cheerful disposition and vast knowledge of music and techie shit meant that he quickly gained Yixing's trust with his guitars, could talk Black Flag and the Ramones with Lu Han until the wee hours of the morning, and even charmed Kyungsoo, who'd always been on the pricklier side of the managers Chanyeol had met. He's loosened up a lot in the years since. You almost had to when your lead singer was a force of nature and tended towards total destruction.

"This could be you, you know," Baekhyun says, flinging a hand at the stage. Chanyeol turns just in time to see Jongdae grab his crotch and double over, wailing into the microphone. He snorts.

"No, it couldn't."

Baekhyun presses on. "It could, though. You've got all this music you've been working on—why don't you let me hear it?"

Chanyeol shrugs and leans back on his elbows.

"Aren't you bored? You should quit. Go make your own band. Strike it rich."

"Yeah, because _that's_ how it works." Chanyeol rolls his eyes and stretches out to his full height, head pillowed by his hands. "I'm happy doing this. It's the best job I've ever had." What Baekhyun's saying makes sense, but he'd miss this too much. He's not ready to move on just yet.

 

**camden, new jersey. july 11.**

There's a late-night diner just off the interstate that they always stop at whenever they're coming through these parts. They all pile in a booth designed for four people. Chanyeol ends up squished in between Yixing and Sehun. Kyungsoo sits across the table, pushing Baekhyun off his shoulder every time Baekhyun tries to settle in and take a nap.

Food arrives. Chanyeol reaches across the table to retrieve a ketchup-laden french fry from Kyungsoo's plate.

"Hey," Kyungsoo admonishes, swatting at Chanyeol's hand. "You should have ordered your own if you wanted some."

Chanyeol grins at him and kicks him under the table. "You should have just ordered two plates. How long have we been doing this?"

Kyungsoo's quiet for a moment as he chews, considering this. "Fair point." He pushes the plate closer to Chanyeol. "You win this time. But you're paying for it."

"You guys are like a married couple," Jongdae says. "Which makes us your kids."

Sehun wrinkles his nose. "I'm not a kid," he insists. Tao laughs and elbows him in the ribs. Sehun bangs his knee on the underside of the table trying to get away from him and nearly ends up in Chanyeol's lap.

"Does that make Chanyeol the mom?" Baekhyun asks, ignoring the scuffle.

"I'm not your mom," Chanyeol says.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "And I'm not your dad."

Chanyeol makes to kick him under the table again, playful grin stretched wide across his face, but Kyungsoo's ready for him this time and catches Chanyeol's foot between his ankles. He pulls the tangle of limbs back underneath his bench, smiles to himself, and holds out another fry for Chanyeol to take.

 

**wantagh, new york. july 12.**

It's cold in New York. Really cold. It starts raining early in the day, before the tents have even set up. Sehun sits huddled behind the merch table and looks so miserable that Kyungsoo takes pity on him and brings him a massive thermos of coffee to keep his hands warm.

Chanyeol fucking hates it when it rains on the tour. The body odor and sweat is bad, but wiping out on the slippery terrain is worse. Plus, there's no way to get clean, and even if you do manage to score a shower somewhere, there's no way to get dry. Jongdae slinks by the tent after his set, streaks of mud winding up his biceps from doing god only knows what. His jeans are ruined.

"Fuck this," Jongdae says. "I quit."

Sehun offers him a cup of coffee. Jongdae takes it and drinks it like a shot of tequila, scorching liquid knocked back in one go, gone as quickly as it'd appeared.

Baekhyun sniffles and rubs at his face, bleary-eyed and staring vacantly. He's gone through half a box of tissues today. The rain's wrecking havoc on his voice and he keeps complaining he's running a fever.

"Me too," Baekhyun says, looking up at Jongdae. "I mean it."

"You don't get to quit," Kyungsoo threatens. "Not until I've made enough money to pay off my car and buy a house."

"So, that'd be never," Jongdae says cheerfully, plopping into Baekhyun's lap. Baekhyun grimaces, face pained. He struggles to get out from underneath Jongdae but Jongdae's got a lot of muscle and weighs more than Baekhyun's even remotely capable of bench-pressing. He's stuck.

"Your ass is so bony," he whines, petulant as ever.

Jongdae gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, obviously just for show. A few fan girls who have been watching giggle at the obnoxious display of affection. "You're welcome."

 

**hartford, connecticut. july 13.**

Every night the lights go out and Chanyeol holds his breath. It's getting so he can count down to the hand appearing around the curtain, the tired face that looms at him from the end of the bed.

"Come here," he says, like he really needs to say anything. Kyungsoo would get in anyway. Chanyeol prefers the closeness now, even if he's just hugging himself when he wakes up.

Kyungsoo wriggles around uncomfortably. "Shit. What the hell do you have in here?" He reaches underneath himself, elbowing Chanyeol in the face as he unearths a stray Sharpie. "Uh."

"I was looking for that!" Chanyeol says, snatching it from between Kyungsoo's fingers. "I thought it'd rolled onto the floor somewhere." He holds it up into a shaft of moonlight and twists it around. Kyungsoo's hand skirts up Chanyeol's forearm, fingers twisting past Chanyeol's knuckles to hold his hand.

A memory surfaces. Yura telling Kyungsoo he'd look good with a tattoo. Chanyeol pulls his hand away and uncaps the marker, holds Kyungsoo's arm in front of his face and draws a smiley face right in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey," Kyungsoo says when he realizes what Chanyeol's up to. "Stop that." He yanks away and rolls over.

"I'm just giving you your first tattoo," Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo lies very still for a long time, so long that Chanyeol thinks he's fallen asleep, until Kyungsoo rolls back over and flings his arm back across Chanyeol's chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Chanyeol grunts so loudly that they both freeze for a moment, listening to Baekhyun roll over above them. "What was that for?" he gasps, when he's sure the entire bus is still asleep.

"Give me something else," Kyungsoo says. "Another one." Chanyeol uncaps the marker with his teeth and starts doodling stars around Kyungsoo's elbow. He's trying to approximate a constellation—Capricorn, Kyungsoo's sign, but mostly it just looks like a smattering of twinkles without any particular rhyme or reason. Lulled by the movement of the bus or the felt-tipped pen dragging across his skin, Kyungsoo curls into Chanyeol's side, arm still draped across Chanyeol's chest, and slowly dozes off.

 

**burgettstown, pennsylvania. july 15.**

Chanyeol's starting to feel a little bit like Cinderella. Or like he's living a double life. As soon as the sun rises, Kyungsoo crawls out of Chanyeol's bed and doesn't come near him for anything not directly involved with the show until the day's over and it's dark again. There's no indication that anything's going on, although the stars from the other night are still there on Kyungsoo's arm. Nobody's had a chance to take a shower so they're crisp and black, like Chanyeol'd just drawn them. Every time Kyungsoo rolls up his sleeves Chanyeol feels flushed and overheated. Kyungsoo looks at him backstage in the middle of a set and it's like the way things used to be before they started messing around, or whatever this is. It's such a stark contrast that Chanyeol's started to catch himself rubbing his lower lip and wondering if the phantom bite he's feeling is from his own teeth or Kyungsoo's.

And then the lights go out and they get back on the road and Kyungsoo's right there, ready to remind him.

 

**cincinnati, ohio. july 16.**

Following strike, Kyungsoo sends Chanyeol to 'supervise' Sehun over at the merch tent. He's needed a babysitter (Kyungsoo's words, much to Sehun's dismay) ever since a couple t-shirts went missing back in New Jersey. It's a shitty situation, since it could have happened to anyone, especially with the high volume of concertgoers. They weren't the only victims of theft that day, either. Plenty of shit gets swiped—display CDs, bottles of water, patches and pins. People get grabby. It's obnoxious as fuck, but it's par for the course. Which is why—

"This is fucking stupid," Sehun grouses, when he catches sight of Chanyeol with his guitar slung over his shoulder, towering above the heads of a group of girls. "How many people does it take to watch me? Am I really that bad? Just fucking fire me already."

Baekhyun's voice comes from somewhere on the floor behind Sehun. "Hey, I'm not watching you. I'm just hanging out." Chanyeol peers over the edge of the table just in time for Jongdae's head to pop up, too.

"I'm avoiding responsibilities," Jongdae says earnestly. "I've got a show in an hour and a half. Hey, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol raises his hand by way of greeting and turns back to Sehun. "Look, keeping Kyungsoo happy means we all get to be happy. I trust you. I'm just going to sit here, okay? I won't hover. You won't even know I'm here."

Sehun shrugs and goes back to his manga. Chanyeol takes that as acceptance of his presence and sits down next to Jongdae in the dirt under the shade of the tent, pulls his guitar into his lap. The ground's still a little soft from the rain they've been having, but it's dry enough that his jeans don't soak through immediately.

"Dude," Baekhyun says, yanking his hand away from where Jongdae's been scribbling Sharpie all over his fingernails like nail polish. Jongdae makes a disgruntled noise and draws a black line down Baekhyun's arm in retaliation. Baekhyun licks his thumb and wipes at the mark. "You dick."

Jongdae grins and blows him a kiss. 

Baekhyun lowers his voice and peeks up underneath his eyebrows at Sehun before he continues. "I meant to ask you, but we've been crazy busy with everything. And you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I just wanted to know. Is something going on between you and Kyungsoo?" He looks back at Jongdae. "You can talk in front of Jongdae. We're not going to judge or anything."

Chanyeol's taken aback at the sudden question. He'd hoped Baekhyun and Jongdae hadn't noticed anything, but then again, they'd have to be completely blind not to. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, as nonchalant as he can manage when his heart's thudding somewhere near his tonsils. "Nah, he—I think he likes Yura, actually."

Baekhyun's got the finely-honed senses of a teenage girl. He zeroes in on what Chanyeol's not saying and, whether through sheer dumb luck, an intimate knowledge of Chanyeol as his best friend, or some combination of both, he nails it: "So you admit you _want_ something to be going on between you?"

Chanyeol starts fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar, switching it to drop d tuning just for something to do, even though none of the _Assholes_ ' songs use it. "I didn't say that," he says finally, carefully.

"They've been hanging out together a lot lately," Jongdae points out. "Kyungsoo and Yura, I mean." He looks at Chanyeol, an amused smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Is that why you've started growing out your hair? To compete?"

"Shut up," Chanyeol huffs, reaching over to pull the guitar off the stand for something to do, something to occupy his hands. He's starting to get antsy with this line of questioning. No good can come of it, really. Once Baekhyun and Jongdae get a whiff of something, though, they're relentless, a couple of hounds on a fox's trail. Chanyeol's the fox, and judging by the glint in their eyes, he's fucking doomed.

Baekhyun shakes his head. "No—that's what I thought at the beginning of the summer, but you two get kind of weird with each other after dark. You're always sneaking off somewhere together."

Chanyeol snorts. "We're not 'sneaking off.' This isn't hide-and-seek."

"Whatever it is. Sometimes I come looking for you and I can't find you."

"He's just—confused, I think. I know we look alike—but he likes Yura, not me."

"Why does he always end up in your bed, then?" Baekhyun demands. "You guys think I don't hear you when he comes into your bunk at night? You're literally two feet away from me."

"Wait. Hold on. You think—he's getting you two mixed up?" Jongdae bursts out laughing, doubled over in his chair, chin on his knees. Baekhyun flops on top of him, also shaking with helpless laughter. It takes a minute for the two of them to get a grip. Baekhyun barely manages to pull himself back into an upright seated position and Jongdae's mopping tears out of the corners of his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt.

"What?" Chanyeol asks crossly. "Don't you have your own group, anyway? Why are you here, hanging out at our merch tent?" He kicks at the leg of Jongdae's chair. Jongdae ignores Chanyeol's outburst.

"Let me get this straight," Jongdae says, and then dissolves into another giggling. "You're just letting him kiss you because you think he's mistaking you... for your sister."

"But you really like him," Baekhyun chimes in. "Why don't you just tell him you've got the hots for him?"

"Because he's my boss? Because I think he likes my sister, or my sister likes him, or something."

"Why are you making it so complicated?" Baekhyun asks. Chanyeol tries—and fails—not to notice the way Jongdae's hand snakes into Baekhyun's lap, cupping his inner thigh in a way that's so shockingly intimate that Chanyeol almost feels like he's intruding in on something between them.

"What about you?" he blurts. "What's—this?" He gesticulates widely between the two of them.

"We're working on a song together," Jongdae says without missing a beat. "Side project. For fun. Combining our powers for good and not evil."

Chanyeol cocks an eyebrow. He's not buying this story. "That's it?"

"Why?" Baekhyun challenges, grinning. He wiggles his eyebrows like he's daring Chanyeol to say something, anything. "What do you think we're doing together?"

Chanyeol sits back in his chair and covers his face with both of his hands. He's not ready to have this conversation and he's regretting bringing it up in the first place. Thankfully, a few fans come up at that point and interrupt: a teenage girl and her friends, giggling and excited. They elbow each other a few times before the front girl is shoved in front of the group, unceremoniously, nominated as their representative to ask for an autograph from Baekhyun and Jongdae. Baekhyun grins and sits up, snatching the Sharpie out of Jongdae's hand. Chanyeol takes the opportunity to retreat. He drags his chair back a few feet until he's sitting next to Sehun at the merch table.

"He's not dating Yura," Sehun says, flipping the latch on the money box. So he'd been eavesdropping on the whole conversation after all. Great. By tomorrow, the whole damn tour will know. The latch squeaks every time Sehun flicks it. Open, shut. Open, shut. "They walk around a lot. Sometimes they sit here and talk."

"Talk? About what?"

Sehun shrugs. Chanyeol leans over and punches him in the shoulder.

"Sehun. What do they talk about?"

"Ow!" Sehun protests, rubbing at his arm. "That fucking hurt."

"I'll do it again if you don't tell me," Chanyeol threatens, winding up for round two.

"I mean, I don't really listen to what they're talking about, I've got to deal with people—"

" _Sehun._ "

Sehun flinches away from Chanyeol's fist. "Fine, fine! Just don't hit me," he says, fingers spread in front of his chest in a classic pose of surrender. He glances over to see whether Jongdae and Baekhyun are still preoccupied with the fans—they are—and then leans in to whisper in Chanyeol's ear: "They talk about you."

Chanyeol's stomach curls, though not unpleasantly, and he finds he can't stop smiling.

 

**cuyahoga falls, ohio. july 17.**

"You've been avoiding me."

Chanyeol looks over his shoulder and sees Yura standing behind him on the trailer's ramp, hands on her hips. He sets down the guitar case he's holding and wipes the sweat from his face. "I have not."

She gives him a Look, one of those sisterly glares that pins him in place. "Ever since I asked you about Kyungsoo. You got weird on me."

Chanyeol thinks about what Sehun told him yesterday and realizes Sehun had probably said something to Yura when she came by. Typical little gossip. Still, he feigns ignorance. "Weird?"

"Weirder than usual." She studies him. "I was hoping you'd ask _me_ about him. What was going on."

Sehun hadn't elaborated on what 'talking about you' meant, exactly, and Chanyeol feels a sinking dismay at the way Yura's looking at him right now. That expression—he's familiar enough with it to know. She's not going to say anything he wants to hear.

"Do we have to do this now?" Chanyeol gestures back at the mountain of equipment stacked precariously behind her. "I've got—you know, a job to do."

She picks up a mic stand and gestures with it. "Fine. Do your job. I'll help."

He gazes at her for a moment. She's determined to stick around. There won't be any getting rid of her, not until she gets exactly what she wants. It's one of Yura's finest qualities when she's doing her own job, but right now Chanyeol just wants to be left alone to sweat and toil in peace.

"So," she continues, "what's going on?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

She drops the mic stand on the floor. It clatters loudly and the noise echoes painfully in the tiny trailer. "You think I won't kick your ass? I did it when you were ten and I'll do it again, Chanyeol."

"Fine," he snaps, irritated. "What do you want to know? I know you guys are—whatever you're doing." Pause. "I didn't ask because I didn't want to know."

"You didn't ask because you _assumed_ —you know we're just friends, right? We've known each other since his last band. It's not what you think."

Chanyeol really doesn't want to hear excuses. Somehow, being lied to is even more painful than the thought that his sister is really the one Kyungsoo wants. "Okay, Yura. Thank you for letting me know."

Yura drapes the back of her hand across her forehead in a dramatic pose. Chanyeol's reminded of their mother again. "You know, when you came out, I never thought there'd be any sort of confusion about dudes between us."

"I'm sorry." He cringes. "I don't—"

"He likes _you_ , you idiot."

Chanyeol can't suppress the grin that breaks out on his face. "Really. Did he tell you that?"

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she snaps. "This is so high school. Fuck you. Ask him yourself. I'm not your matchmaker." And then, over her shoulder as she leaves: "You guys are cute. Stop avoiding him."

 

**auburn hills, michigan. july 18.**

Baekhyun has a bad show.

It happens to everyone. Off days _happen_ ; there's no way to be a hundred percent every single time. Still, Baekhyun takes it so personally every single time. He completely misses his high note in the first song and it goes downhill very rapidly from there. Chanyeol can see him getting more and more frustrated, winding the mic cord around his forearm an extra time like it'll fortify him, protect him from the humiliation.

It doesn't.

He storms off stage after the last song without bothering to say goodbye to the fans, brushes past Kyungsoo and Chanyeol with a thundercloud above his head. When Lu Han calls after him, he bites out, "Need a shower," and disappears behind a van.

"Leave him," Yixing says gently, pulling Lu Han up short. "He'll be okay. Just give him a chance to cool off."

 

Chanyeol finds him still taking a shower out behind the bus, shivering under the cold water, stripped naked for the world to see. "Hey," Chanyeol says, and Baekhyun jumps.

"You mind?" he splutters, making a half-hearted attempt to cover his junk. He can't quite manage it because he needs both hands to do it properly, but he's got to keep one hand on the shower chain to keep the water flowing. He compromises by spreading his fingers wide, which isn't nearly as effective as he probably thinks it is. Chanyeol resists the urge to laugh.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Chanyeol says. There's a towel sitting off to the side next to a set of dry clothes. He picks it up and unfolds it, holds it open wide for Baekhyun to step into it.

"I don't know how many more of those I have left in me," Baekhyun admits when he's dried off and dressed. "It's just not fun anymore."

"Is this about the review? Because Yura says that guy's an asshole—"

Baekhyun smiles wanly. "It's not that. Well, not _just_ that." His hair's cowlicked in six different directions from rubbing it dry with the towel. He runs his fingers through it to try and get it to lie flat, but it keeps springing back. He looks like the demented older brother of Alfalfa or something. "It's just—I used to get excited about this. And now I'm just ready to get back to the bus every night."

"Well, that's understandable. I mean, it's a long tour—"

"If we weren't on Warped, we'd be out on our own anyway," Baekhyun points out. "Same shit, different bus. I don't know." He sighs through his teeth, irritated. Then, like an electric current's passing through him, his head jerks up. "You're not going to tell Kyungsoo, are you?"

"I don't even know what I'd be telling him," Chanyeol says honestly, palms turning to the sky. Baekhyun's eyes narrow, contemplating this.

"Good," he decides finally. "I just—I'm going to go catch Jongdae's set. I'll be back later. I'm sorry. Just—forget I said anything."

Chanyeol watches him leave. He hates that it's been cold and shitty the past few weeks. He hates that this whole summer is turning out wrong, hates that everything feels like it's suddenly got an expiration date.


	3. Chapter 3

**tinley park, illinois. july 19.**

Kyungsoo storms into the bus right when Chanyeol's trying to take a nap on the back couch, and straddles his lap. Chanyeol can hear the faint sounds of All Time Low's set in the distance, muffled by the walls of the bus. Kyungsoo smells like he's been standing out in the sunshine for too long, sort of hot and sour, and he seems flustered. Chanyeol lets him inch up his chest until Kyungsoo gets to the bare skin of Chanyeol's throat and leans in to kiss it.

"Stop," Chanyeol croaks, pushing Kyungsoo away. Kyungsoo frowns, fingers hooked in the belt loops of Chanyeol's jeans. He tries to move against the resistance and push back a little bit but Chanyeol's too strong. A beat. "I'm not Yura."

Kyungsoo freezes and blinks slowly, tongue wetting his lips as he considers what's just been said to him. "I know," he says slowly.

"You can't—we can't keep doing this when I know it's just because we look alike. It's the hair, isn't it? Because I didn't get a haircut before we left, and she did. And we always got mistaken for twins when we were growing up, ask Baekhyun, it's a pretty common mistake—"

Kyungsoo's eyebrows lift to his hairline. "Chanyeol. Are you stupid?" He sits up, shaking his head. "You think I don't know the difference between a woman's body and—you? This?" He waves his arms in a sweeping gesture between them. His hand moves so fast he slaps Chanyeol in the chest. "You're not that much alike."

"Then why?"

"You think maybe it's because I'm doing it on purpose because it's you?" Kyungsoo's eyes widen, chin jutting out obstinately.

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. "I. What."

"You know, you could have _asked_ me if you were confused."

"But we were working," Chanyeol says feebly. "I thought you were blowing off steam—and you'd get mad and stop if I said anything." His hand covers his mouth. It sounds stupid as hell now that he's saying it out loud.

"I'm kind of weirded out you thought I thought you were your sister."

"You just said 'thought' a whole lot," Chanyeol says dumbly, for lack of anything constructive to say. _You're right. It's weird._ He buries his fists in his pockets. Something digs into his knuckles, rigid and sharp. He fishes it out—a bright green Tortex guitar pick. Runs his fingernail along the scalloped edge, listening to the quiet clicking.

"There were no thoughts. You didn't actually think at all, did you?" Kyungsoo's face scrunches. He gets up off Chanyeol's legs and sits back on the neighboring seat, just out of Chanyeol's reach. The bus is vibrating, humming very quietly with all the different bass lines from all the different bands playing at once. Chanyeol's not sure if that's what's giving him this dull headache or if it's the sad look on Kyungsoo's face, but either way it feels like someone's taken a sledgehammer to the bridge of his nose.

"Don't go away," Chanyeol says. "I just wanted..."

Kyungsoo waits. "You wanted what," he prompts softly when Chanyeol can't find the words to continue. "Tell me."

"I can't tell what this is. Or if it's a good idea."

"It's a stupid idea. And you're an idiot," Kyungsoo says frankly. He takes the guitar pick from Chanyeol and turns it around in his fingers, holds it up to the light to inspect it. "You work for me." He tosses the guitar pick and snatches it out of the air.

" _With_ you."

"I don't make that distinction." Kyungsoo's smile is askew on his face, higher on his left side than his right, bubbling forth even though he's obviously doing his best to suppress it. Chanyeol laughs through his nose and lies back, forearm draped across his eyes.

"Okay," he says finally, and then nothing else because Kyungsoo's slithering back up on his chest, pushing him into the crack between the seat cushions and the back of the sofa, pulling Chanyeol up by the shoulders so he can reach his mouth. Kyungsoo tastes cold, like peppermint gum and coffee, nicotine, tastes like desperation and like he doesn't give a fuck if someone comes in and catches them like this, which is maybe the most rock and roll thing Chanyeol can think of. He wants to write a dozen songs about this very moment, about the way it feels to have Kyungsoo's knees in between his, but there aren't any chords he can think of that can accurately capture how good it feels, so he just keeps making out with him instead. The inspiration will come, or it won't, but either way they'll have this.

 

**shakopee, minnesota. july 20.**

Another night, another motel room.

Baekhyun offers to room with Chanyeol, but Chanyeol's just tired of dancing around the subject and doesn't want to avoid Kyungsoo anymore. He knows he's been wrong about a lot of things this summer. He's wasted weeks lying still, waiting for Kyungsoo to come to him. He's starting to realize that all these moments along the way have been, in Kyungsoo's own, awkward way, an attempt to reach out.

So they check in and Kyungsoo immediately flips on the television to fill the room with noise that isn't either of them speaking. Chanyeol's grateful for it—and then he's not. He pulls the remote out of Kyungsoo's hand and mutes the sound.

"You're not going anywhere this time, are you?" Chanyeol asks warily, his gaze drilling a hole into the carpet. "You're not going to go hang out with Yura instead?" When he finally lifts his face, Kyungsoo's watching him, chewing on his lower lip. When he speaks, his voice cracks.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"Stay," Chanyeol says. "Please."

He pulls off his shirt and drops it to the floor at his feet. Kyungsoo surveys him slowly, eyes rising from Chanyeol's bare feet curling in the carpet—lingering on the buckle of his belt—up his exposed torso—and finally looks up, throat jumping as he swallows.

"What?" Chanyeol asks, trying to keep his tone gentle even though his chest is constricting with panic. They've shared a room plenty of times. Over the course of this summer, they've kissed on at least half a dozen occasions. But this is different. For one thing, they're both sober. There's no pretending they don't mean anything that happens tonight. There's no lying about it. As long as Kyungsoo keeps kissing him, Chanyeol's not going to complain, and he's going to stop overthinking it. He figures he's doing something right. The magnitude of the situation weighs heavy on him. He keeps thinking about what Sehun had said—and Baekhyun and Jongdae, and Yura—and then finally, he can't think of anything but the slope of Kyungsoo's shoulders, the pink wetness of his mouth when he licks his lips. He zeroes in on the tiny stray hairs in Kyungsoo's eyebrows and reaches out, smooths them with the pad of his thumb.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, mouth twisting as he fights off a smile. Chanyeol loves seeing that expression on Kyungsoo's face. He finds he loves it even more when he's the cause of it. He takes a step forward and slides a palm around the back of Kyungsoo's neck. The other hand splays against the side of his face, cradling it gently. Kyungsoo's eyelashes flutter drowsily as he leans into it like a cat—grateful to be touched, but unwilling (or unsure) about further contact.

"It's late," Chanyeol says.

"We've got an early wake-up call," Kyungsoo reminds him, hand coming up to cover Chanyeol's. Or, barely—his thumb and forefinger don't quite meet when they wrap around Chanyeol's wrist.

"I know."

"Shower, then?" Kyungsoo suggests. The next two words nearly make Chanyeol swallow his tongue. "With me."

He doesn't need to ask twice.

Chanyeol feels that same sort of giddiness that fills his head after drinking a bottle of champagne by himself. Kyungsoo stares up at him, eyes wide but gentle. He keeps touching the tattoo on Chanyeol's pec, running his fingers across the flared horn of the gramophone inked near his armpit, tracing the shape of the horn's elbow with his index finger. Chanyeol kisses the top of the head and backs him up under the spray.

 

**columbia, maryland. july 22.**

They're becoming bolder with each other. The fucking is getting fierce. Chanyeol comes away with teeth marks in his fingers from Kyungsoo biting on them to stop from crying out loud. It's getting pretty ridiculous. Every chance they get they're sneaking off somewhere, Chanyeol's hand already unbuttoning the snap of Kyungsoo's jeans to shove his hand into Kyungsoo's underwear. People must have noticed by now. There's no way they could miss it. Chanyeol feels so raw and open every time he looks out of the corner of his eye and catches Kyungsoo singing along with the songs he knows by heart because he's heard them a thousand times before. He's convinced it's written on his face. One look at him and everyone will know everything.

But this is just too good to ignore. Kyungsoo's hand on the back of Chanyeol's neck when he crouches down behind an amp to suck him off, the sweltering air of the trailer when he dry humps him to release during an early load-in. Chanyeol knows he fucking stinks, that he smells like sex and sweat, jizz and dirt and sunscreen, but he doesn't really care that it's been three days since he took a shower. Kyungsoo smells just as bad. His hair's so greasy it's starting to hold its own style, shaved at the sides, scruffy and starting to grow in. He's got a stubborn pimple on his forehead and his face shines with sweat and oil but despite all that, he's the best thing Chanyeol's ever seen.

 

**virginia beach, virginia. july 23.**

It's so hot that Chanyeol receives word that over two hundred concertgoers are being treated for heatstroke. He believes it. There's no oxygen backstage whatsoever. After coming from the cold-ass, rainy-ass Northeast, this feels like he's entered some circle of hell.

When he's not working, Chanyeol follows Yura around to the various stages. She uses his height to her full advantage and lets him blaze a trail through the mass of sweaty teenage bodies, waving her AP pass when some snot-nosed little shit tries to give her trouble or step on her foot.

"How are things with Kyungsoo?" she asks casually when they're between sets at the main stage, hanging out at the barricade. Chanyeol lifts a shoulder to his ear but he can't stop the grin from creeping across his face.

 

**atlanta, georgia. july 24.**

Chanyeol's backstage waiting for the _Assholes_ to finish up their last song when it happens. He keeps replaying it in his mind afterwards and he still can't quite figure out what goes wrong. Yixing jumps, knees tucked to his chest, suspended in the air for a moment to land on a downbeat. He's done it a thousand times before with no incident. This time, number one thousand and one, he lands awkwardly on the back of his heels and stumbles. He manages to stay upright, guitar clanging against his thigh but otherwise unharmed. Chanyeol's glad—the Les Paul with the blue swirl finish Yixing's got right now is one of his favorites, and he'd be really upset to see it damaged.

Unfortunately, Yixing's not so lucky. His face contorts with pain and his hand drops away from the fretboard, a flurry of smudged notes trailing off into feedback, and then nothing. Baekhyun notices immediately when Yixing can't stand up straight and waves Lu Han off to stop the song.

"Shit," Kyungsoo says, peeling out from where he'd been standing, a few feet behind Chanyeol, "something's really wrong. Get the medic."

 

By the time Chanyeol finishes packing the trailer and gets there, Yixing's playing cards with Lu Han and Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo's pacing tight circles at the end of a corridor, twirling an unlit cigarette in between his index and middle finger. Chanyeol tries to touch him but Kyungsoo steps out of reach, shoulder blades anchored against the tiled wall, body language radiating _don't touch, not now_.

"He's gonna need surgery," Kyungsoo says, his eyes dull. "His leg's numb."

Chanyeol swallows hard against the burning bile in his throat. "But he was fine this morning—"

"Slipped a disc." The cigarette slows to a stop. He taps it on his upper lip. "He's been jumping around too much."

Around them, the hospital bustles. Nurses crisscrossing the hallway from room to room, pages ringing out over the loudspeaker above. Kyungsoo stays silent, his eyes dark and solemn. Chanyeol hesitates and then finally allows himself to put his hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"He'll be okay."

"Yeah." Kyungsoo smiles grimly. "It's over, though. The summer's over. We'll have to pull out of the rest of the dates."

The sound of Baekhyun's voice makes both of them jump. He comes around the corner, hands buried deep in his back pockets. The way his shoulders are drawn up to his ears almost makes him look shy, although Baekhyun's never been shy a day in his life. "Why can't Chanyeol do it?"

"Why can't Chanyeol do what?"

"Fill in for Yixing. He knows all the music. He can do it."

Chanyeol sees a flash in Baekhyun's eyes, one of earnest desperation. He wants so badly to prove himself this summer, and things keep getting in his way. It's true that Chanyeol's got all their repertoire down. At this point, he could probably fill in for any of the members if they were missing. But it feels too strange, knowing Yixing's going to be in bed and away from the band for any length of time.

Kyungsoo tilts his head. He pins Chanyeol with a thoughtful stare, lower lip sucked in underneath his top one. "I hadn't thought about that. Would it be too much? We could—I could help—with your real job."

Chanyeol hesitates.

"It was Yixing's idea," Baekhyun explains, hand cupping Chanyeol's elbow to offer him encouragement. "He said it the minute they came back with the results."

Chanyeol looks between Baekhyun's face and Kyungsoo's and he knows that for different reasons, they both feel like this tour is their last shot to prove something. He's the only thing standing in between that. He's the only one that can salvage a success from the wreckage.

And besides, he doesn't want the summer to be over yet, either.

 

So it's settled: Chanyeol will fill in as the _Assholes_ ' guitarist for the remaining nine dates. He'd normally be over the moon at a break like this—this is a big fucking deal, especially when he's been working behind the scenes for so long. But Yixing's hospitalization puts a damper on things. Chanyeol sits with Yixing for half an hour and lets him talk him through the entire set, song by song. Chanyeol knows it by heart, but he can see it means a lot to Yixing to know that everything's being taken care of. Chanyeol takes notes on the backs of receipts in his pocket and promises to text Yixing every evening after their set to let him know how it went.

 

They have to leave Yixing behind in Atlanta. The bus is already running behind waiting for them, and they'll never make it in time if they don't leave. It's a subdued ride, knowing one of their bandmates is lying in a hospital bed tonight instead of up in his bunk. His parents are due to arrive sometime tomorrow, whenever their flight gets in, so he won't be alone for long, but it's little comfort. Yixing's absence is felt anyway.

 

After lights out, Chanyeol lies there for half an hour listening to Baekhyun toss and turn. After he finally settles in with a rough cough, a familiar face peers around the edge of Chanyeol's curtain, pale and morose. Kyungsoo crawls up his legs as carefully as he can manage, one finger pressing to his lips to keep Chanyeol from waking Baekhyun. It's a tight fit, two men in a bunk barely designed to fit one, especially when Chanyeol's one of them. Chanyeol pulls the curtain back to give them some privacy and they both lie still for a moment, listening to the sounds of the bus's engine rumbling underneath them. Baekhyun's making quiet whimpering noises in his sleep, and Sehun's snoring is loud enough to wake the dead. Kyungsoo tilts his head, breathing noisily, and then his lips part against the corner of Chanyeol's jaw. Chanyeol holds his breath, wondering if he's going to take it a step further again.

"What's up?" Chanyeol whispers after the longest minute of his life, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible when there's someone breathing in his ear. Kyungsoo nuzzles at the spot where his lips had been and sighs.

"This was supposed to be a good summer," he murmurs. "Why hasn't anything worked the way it was supposed to?"

"It hasn't been all bad," Chanyeol says reasonably, patting Kyungsoo's shoulder, pulling him just a little closer.

"You're right, it hasn't. And it's not over yet," Kyungsoo agrees, yawning softly so that his lips brush against the lobe of Chanyeol's ear. Chanyeol wonders if he—if _this_ —counts as one of Kyungsoo's good things.

 

**st. petersburg, florida. july 25.**

Chanyeol doesn't know how to feel the next morning during the impromptu rehearsal. It feels good to get the songs under his fingers again, to work as a team to make music instead of bustling around making sure everything's plugged in and functioning. He watches Sehun and Kyungsoo onstage and thinks about Yixing sitting in the hospital bed and can't smile, even though inside he's bursting at the seams with excitement.

Baekhyun cons him into putting on eyeliner and makes him change out of his old Role Model t-shirt into a sleeveless shirt with the arm-holes ripped so huge he's basically wearing a pinney. "You've got those tattoos," Baekhyun says reasonably, stepping back to admire the precise wingtip he's just drawn on Chanyeol's left eyelid. "You paid good money for them and you're just going to cover them up."

Kyungsoo has to physically restrain Chanyeol from going onstage to check Sehun's handiwork. "I took care of everything," Kyungsoo assures him, squinting up against the sun into Chanyeol's face. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Baekhyun."

"I figured." His thumb comes away black with mascara. "There. You don't need all this."

"Thanks," Chanyeol says, grinning, left hand borrowing Kyungsoo's wrist as a makeshift fretboard, fingers flying through the opening song until Kyungsoo yanks his hand away and complains that it tickles.

"You ready?" Kyungsoo asks, looking at his watch. Lu Han comes by and offers Chanyeol a silent fist bump of solidarity on his way to his kit. Baekhyun's not far behind, bouncing around on one foot, then the other, swinging his arms around to loosen up like he's about to swim a relay race.

"As I'll ever be."

"You'll be fine." The crowd erupts in a huge roar when they see Lu Han emerge onstage. Chanyeol swallows hard and looks down at Kyungsoo, smiles thinly. "Don't fuck it up," Kyungsoo teases, and shoves him the final two feet onstage.

 

Performing's a funny thing. Chanyeol's body definitely remembers this, but he's never played for a crowd this big before. He's done a couple outdoor shows—small festivals, though, nothing with headliners and multiple stages, nothing of this magnitude. It's electrifying. The pulse in his veins throbs in time with Lu Han's cymbal hits and he catches Baekhyun watching him out of the corner of his eye and _remembers_. He looks out at all the faces in the crowd, the sea of hands thrown in the air, reaching out for Baekhyun, who swings the mic up his forearm and leans out over the pit so the crowd can sing along with the chorus. Yura's up front, crushed against the gate. She throws him the thumbs up every time he catches her eye, which is pretty often. He's really glad she's here for this. She's always been supportive of his career behind the scenes and he knows despite the awkwardness recently she'll always, always have his back—but it's reassuring to look out and see family.

He's so lost in the music, fingers on autopilot, that it doesn't even register with him that the set's over until Lu Han's ambling over to the edge of the stage to toss out his sticks, clapping Chanyeol on the back in congratulations. Chanyeol's shirt is soaked through with sweat from the oppressive Florida heat, stuck to his skin where the guitar strap had been. He can only see Kyungsoo's smile, waiting for him in the wings. So he comes offstage, away from the light, and dives right into Kyungsoo's open arms.

 

**west palm beach, florida. july 26.**

It's decided that Tao will take over the _Assholes_ merch table for the remaining tour dates. Truth be told, he's doing a better job than Sehun ever did. He actually sells out of the rest of the women's sizes in both of their t-shirts and the first EP, keeps coming back to Kyungsoo asking if there's any more hidden somewhere. There's not, but it's a nice thought.

"We should steal him," Kyungsoo says, when he knows Jongdae's within earshot. Jongdae scowls.

"I'll trade you the roadie for the merch kid." He smiles slyly. "Your old roadie, I mean."

Kyungsoo actually appears to consider it for half a second. Chanyeol picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder to carry him away, lumberjack style.

"Okay, okay!" he laughs, pounding his fists on Chanyeol's back. "You can stay. Put me down!"

 

For all the jokes, the replacement roadie's doing just fine. Sehun is a surprisingly quick study, although Chanyeol realizes, halfway through explaining load-in, that Yixing's been talking Sehun through the ins and outs of the equipment for the better part of the summer. His hands are steady and sure, wrists cocked perfectly with the sticks as he rolls through Lu Han's drum set, pausing for a moment to check the placement of the microphone for the kick drum. He looks good. Professional. It's definitely a better fit than sticking him behind a table all day.

Chanyeol tries to offer assistance when he sees Sehun emerge with a pedal underneath his arm. "That goes—"

"I know," Sehun says impatiently, his mouth pressed into a sharp line like a knife's edge. Sehun's never looked frigid or businesslike before. Honestly, it's a little frightening. Chanyeol backs off, right into Kyungsoo, who's waiting in the wings and laughing.

"You've been replaced," he says. Chanyeol muscles him into a dark corner behind the tower of amps and stands there, mouth hovering less than an inch from Kyungsoo's. Being close like this, breathing each other's air while the wet heat wraps around them like a blanket, makes it seem so much more intimate. Like there aren't a hundred people milling around backstage who are probably watching the entire spectacle. Chanyeol doesn't care much about that right now, though. He'd never be able to keep Kyungsoo a secret forever.

"I hope not," Chanyeol rumbles, and lets Kyungsoo come to him.

 

**orlando, florida. july 27.**

Chanyeol's alone in the venue bathroom at the fairgrounds taking a piss when Kyungsoo comes in. Chanyeol glances up and sees him in the mirror, hears the gritty click of the deadbolt sliding into place, and realizes a moment too late that he's going to be having sex right now. Frissons of excitement pop down his spine like electric shocks when he sees the dark look in Kyungsoo's eyes, when Kyungsoo pulls off his shirt and drops it on the floor. Chanyeol feels like a teenager with the way they can't keep their hands off each other, but it's like talking about it opened the flood gates. Years of sexual tension built up and released into reckless decisions, like when Kyungsoo unsnaps Chanyeol's jeans and pushes him back up on the sink countertop. Chanyeol winces at the puddle he's sitting in, but he's so ready for this.

There's also a bit of avoidance. Chanyeol doesn't want to think about Yixing's surgery. He obviously feels fucking terrible every time he floats the idea of moving to work for a new band, but loyalty doesn't pay the bills. So he focuses on this instead, pushing the tiny bottle of KY (purchased at a gas station for like $3 more than he'd pay at Walmart) into Kyungsoo's palm and guiding Kyungsoo's hand to his ass.

Kyungsoo produces a condom from his wallet and rolls it down his shaft with one hand, mouth attached to Chanyeol's neck. Being up on this countertop makes him the perfect height for Kyungsoo to sink all the way inside and lick a stripe up Chanyeol's throat, teeth scraping gently at his Adam's apple. Chanyeol closes his eyes and focuses on the way the stinging stretch softens into pleasure each time Kyungsoo pulls out and returns. The lube makes a soft, wet sucking noise, over-loud in the echoing bathroom. There's faint music outside, the dull roar of jumbled conversation, but the loudest thing is just their heavy breathing.

It's hot as fuck in here but the sweat on Chanyeol's skin feels fucking cold against the air. He shifts, slides himself further down to allow Kyungsoo to push deeper. Kyungsoo folds him in half up against the mirror, gathering him in by the thighs as leverage as he thrusts in. Chanyeol grabs hold of Kyungsoo's face and forces him to make eye contact before he pulls him in for a fierce kiss.

Eagerly, Kyungsoo meets him half-way, rasping, "You feel really good," Chanyeol's bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Chanyeol can't stop babbling. "Shit, yeah, please," he whines, legs spread wide around Kyungsoo's hips. Kyungsoo laughs, breathless with exertion, and pushes Chanyeol's hair off his forehead to kiss his hairline. Chanyeol leans forward and bites Kyungsoo hard on the neck, the shoulder, teeth sinking into the soft flesh, leaving dark pink marks in his wake. The mirror rattles, and a particularly hard push from Kyungsoo has Chanyeol slipping halfway into the sink as he struggles to keep his balance, knocking the hot water tap on as he catches himself and steadies.

Kyungsoo laughs and drops a hand from Chanyeol's leg in favor of wrapping it around his cock. If jerking off were an art, Kyungsoo would be fucking Picasso. So many things he does with his thumbs, rapid firmly-gripped strokes, relentless twists, even introduces his mouth when he can manage to reach, although he's obviously not too eager to get Chanyeol off right away because his pace slows and his eyes roll back in his head. He's buried inside Chanyeol with this small smirk in the corners of his mouth. He approaches Chanyeol the same way he'd approach an event—analytical, able to assess the best way to get the job done. He doesn't—can't, really—smile until the jizz starts squelching through his fingers. Then the composure of normally-stoic Do Kyungsoo cracks and his head drops forward onto Chanyeol's sternum and Chanyeol coaxes him through his release, stroking Kyungsoo's hair, mouthing kisses on the tip of his nose, his eyelids, biting him on the earlobe just to hear him whimper.

They stay like that for a while, still connected, until Kyungsoo softens and slips out. Chanyeol's back is stiff and he's got the impression of the tap handle pressed into his skin and somebody's banging on the door outside. Has been for a while. The bathroom's fucking disgusting, probably hepatitis on every surface, but Chanyeol's so overcome that it's all he can do not to push Kyungsoo against the stall divider and do it all over again.

 

**charlotte, north carolina. july 28.**

"So I've been thinking," Baekhyun begins, and Chanyeol looks up from the guitar he's restringing. Coming from Baekhyun, that's never a good conversation starter. It always ends with something outlandishly batshit, like _we should incorporate pyrotechnics into the next tour!_ or _how about some backup dancers with nipple tassels_. Chanyeol's instantly on alert, ready to shut Baekhyun down. "It's been really cool having you play with us. I forgot how much I really missed it."

"Yes?"

"And Yixing's going to be laid up for a while with this back thing."

"Yes," Chanyeol says suspiciously. "He will." Yixing's been texting all of them non-stop since they left. They're in Charlotte today, which is marginally closer than they've been, but it could be halfway across the world when they don't have enough downtime to make the drive and make it back in time to rejoin the tour. Chanyeol doesn't want this gig full-time and he's scared that's going to be Baekhyun's suggestion. There's no way he can be Yixing—it doesn't matter how well Chanyeol knows the songs, they're not _his_ , so he'll never get them the way Yixing does. Nobody can be Yixing except Yixing.

Baekhyun looks over his shoulder to ensure they're alone. "Jongdae and I have been working on a side project. And you should get in on it."

 

Chanyeol's spent the whole summer assuming their 'side project' was just code for fucking, but Jongdae comes over on the bus with his laptop to play the three songs they've already written. Chanyeol watches Baekhyun curiously out of the corner of his eye, sees his hand slide up the back of Jongdae's shirt to rest protectively on the small of his back. Okay. So it's obviously a little bit of both.

They're jamming when Kyungsoo comes back. Chanyeol's playing over the top of the track and Jongdae's humming along, nodding with approval every time Chanyeol does something he really likes. Baekhyun's sitting back, hand still up Jongdae's shirt, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The song's a lot different than the stuff Yixing usually writes for them—less straightforward pop-punk, more r&b influences at the edges and in the chord changes. No way this would ever get them mistaken as a Motion City cover band. Kyungsoo stands watching half-way down the aisle, leaning against the bunks and listening. He's got an odd little smile on his face and his eyes are shining.

"What's this?" he asks when the song's winding down.

"Don't be mad," says Baekhyun. "It's just for fun."

"No, I'm not mad. It's good."

"Even with a traitor in our midst?" Baekhyun asks, laughing when Jongdae squawks and elbows him.

"Even with the traitor." Kyungsoo pushes off the bunk post with his shoulders and comes into the sitting area. "Chanyeol, have you showed them the stuff you've been working on?"

Chanyeol's ears go red. "No."

"Shit, you've been holding out on us," Jongdae says. Kyungsoo's one step ahead of them. Squirrels into Chanyeol's bunk and comes back with his laptop, boots it up and types in the password as comfortably as if it was his own machine. Baekhyun must notice the level of familiarity because he grins, wide and knowing, but wisely doesn't say anything. Chanyeol slumps back against the couch and covers his eyes.

"No, don't." His heart's pounding crazily with anticipation, worse than getting onstage with the _Assholes_ , worse than the first few times he kissed Kyungsoo for real, worse than anything. He waits for the furniture to swallow him. It doesn't happen.

"It's good," Kyungsoo insists, and presses play.

 

**nashville, tennessee. july 29.**

Yixing calls with an update. Surgery's scheduled for the following Wednesday. He says he's fine being there alone but Lu Han insists on booking a ticket to come out and stay with him while he recovers.

"You're going to need someone to help you when you fall in the toilet," Lu Han says solemnly. "Grandpa."

"I'm going to be out for a while," Yixing says, genuinely apologetic, like he fucked up his back on purpose or something. "I'm really sorry, guys. I know we were supposed to tour with the new stuff for a while. It's going to kill the momentum."

"Don't worry," Baekhyun promises. "AP already killed the momentum. There's always a place for you. We'll be ready to pick up where we left off whenever you get back."

 

**milwaukee, wisconsin. july 30.**

It's not ideal to hook up in the trailer but it's the only place where they're guaranteed a little peace and quiet, even if it means hyperventilating from the lack of oxygen. At least the head rush makes the orgasms incredible. Kyungsoo slumps against an amp after they're done, sticky and covered with semen, his eyes wandering and unfocused. Chanyeol's pretty woozy too, but he has enough coordination and sense to clean them off with his discarded t-shirt. Kyungsoo stops him mid-wipe and grabs his chin to kiss him, soft and sweet.

"What was that for?" Chanyeol asks.

"You did really well up there tonight," Kyungsoo says. "Like a real rock star."

"Does that make you my groupie?" Chanyeol asks, eyebrows waggling. Kyungsoo shoves the dirty shirt in Chanyeol's face and laughs at Chanyeol's angry Donald Duck spluttering.

 

**bonner springs, kansas. july 31.**

Kyungsoo emerges from the bathroom with his glasses perched on his nose. He hates having to wear them—an old, wire-rimmed pair he's been sporting since high school, and even then only when he was having trouble getting his contacts in. He cringes when he sees Chanyeol's still awake and pushes the glasses up his nose.

"I thought you'd be asleep."

Chanyeol shakes his head, pats the empty, Kyungsoo-sized space on the mattress next to him. The second bed is still perfectly made, sheets stretched taut into hospital corners. It'll stay that way, if Chanyeol has anything to say about it. After yesterday he just needs more, needs it again, needs it badly. "Come here."

Kyungsoo crawls on his hands and knees to pause, suspended over Chanyeol. Chanyeol leans up and closes the space, kissing him. He could do this forever. Kyungsoo's mouth is soft and warm. He makes these quiet snuffling noises when he's happy that are so fucking cute that Chanyeol takes Kyungsoo's face between his palms and kisses him harder because he doesn't know what else to do with himself.

"Early morning tomorrow," Kyungsoo says when they break apart, his lips puffy and slick with Chanyeol's spit. He looks annoyed, but keeps nipping at Chanyeol's chin, making no effort to stop where this is headed. Chanyeol doesn't want to think about how tired he's going to be tomorrow morning, just the way Kyungsoo shivers and deliberately rocks his hips into Chanyeol's until Chanyeol groans out loud.

 

Somehow they end up with Kyungsoo sitting in the desk chair, leaning back with his dick in hand, watching Chanyeol finger himself. Kyungsoo's eyes are dark, mouth parted just slightly, and every time Chanyeol gasps out loud Kyungsoo squeezes himself and his eyes roll back in his head. Chanyeol notices the fine beads of sweat forming on Kyungsoo's forehead and gestures with his free hand.

"Come here," he says. Kyungsoo shakes his head.

"You come here." Back arched, he pushes himself back up into a seated position with the top of his head against the chair. Chanyeol's hand slows.

"What do you want me to do? I can't—I'll hurt you. Just come here."

"You're not going to break me," Kyungsoo says, eyebrow arching. There's an odd, steely quality to his voice that makes Chanyeol's spine snap to attention. He's not being Kyungsoo right now but Manager Do, expecting Chanyeol to meet all of his demands. "Do it."

Chanyeol's mouth goes dry. He's got six inches and a good number of pounds on Kyungsoo. There's no way this can end well—but Kyungsoo wants him to sit in his lap, so he does. Tentatively at first, one hand gripping the arm of the chair. Kyungsoo guides him down gently until he's sheathed all the way inside, then smooths a hand up Chanyeol's ribcage in silent praise.

In this position, Chanyeol's got to do most of the work. It helps that he's got long legs. It's easy to hook his ankles around the legs of the chair and push himself up, up on his toes, until he almost feels Kyungsoo slip free, and then sinks back down on his dick again in one smooth slide. Kyungsoo rests his forehead against Chanyeol's back, hands wandering up from Chanyeol's nipples and back down to tug at his pubic hair, always just managing to avoid Chanyeol's dick. It's frustrating—amazing, but frustrating. Each yank, each pinch, sends a prickle of pain shooting straight to his cock, which bobs, neglected, near his thighs.

"Told you—you wouldn't—crush me," Kyungsoo pants. He drops a few open-mouth kisses across Chanyeol's sweaty skin, tip of his tongue tracing a straight line up the terraced vertebrae of Chanyeol's spine.

Chanyeo rises up on the balls of his feet, one hand braced on the wall, and bounces gently, testing it. The slightest movement from Chanyeol's body has Kyungsoo breaking out in a sweat, writhing underneath him, grabbing the flesh of Chanyeol's thighs by the fistful. Chanyeol retaliates by retreating a fraction, only to inch right back. He's still unused to the sensation of Kyungsoo inside of him, but the stretch isn't unpleasant. After a while, the sting at the rim of his asshole fades away and it's just a dull pressure, steady, relentless.

After a particularly enthusiastic thrust, Kyungsoo gasps and swears, the blunt ends of his fingertips digging into Chanyeol's hips to try and pull him closer. If he had fingernails, they probably would have broken the skin by now.

"What was that?" Chanyeol asks. Kyungsoo thrusts his hips as hard as he can, trying to catch up to Chanyeol, who hovers above him, balanced on his toes just a few inches out of reach.

"Fuck—Chanyeol—please," Kyungsoo moans. "I need you—to—just, _please_."

Chanyeol's delighted that the tables have finally turned, that Kyungsoo's the one falling apart because of him. Kyungsoo's arms wrap around Chanyeol's chest to hold him steady, keep him grounded. His thighs tense underneath Chanyeol, cock kicking. When Chanyeol follows, his vision sparks into pinpricks of white, his body clenched and bowing like a cattail.

 

**salt lake city, utah. august 2.**

Salt Lake City, Utah. The beer's weak but the show's pretty good, all things considered. Chanyeol's so fucking ready to be done with the summer. He can't imagine how Baekhyun and Lu Han and Jongdae feel. They've been throwing everything they have into the performances every single day and it shows, but he thinks back to Baekhyun's temper tantrum under the shower and his subsequent threats to quit, and Chanyeol finally understands that making it big doesn't always mean feeling like a rock star. Right now, he feels like the tour bus backed over him once and then drove over him again for good measure.

They're gathered in the back of the bus. Yura's there too, listening in on their meeting about the special project. She's sitting next to—or rather, cuddling up against—Chanyeol. After a long hot day in the sun doing coverage for the AP blog, she's exhausted and dozing lightly, her chin resting on his shoulder. Chanyeol holds still, spine stiff as a board, trying not to move around too much and disturb her.

"So... we're really gonna do this?" Chanyeol asks, flicking a guitar pick at Kyungsoo's face with his free hand. It bounces off Kyungsoo's cheek and ricochets into his outstretched hands. He scowls and flings it at the floor.

"I think it's the best option," Baekhyun says. Next to him, Jongdae slings his feet into Baekhyun's lap, dirty Vans and all.

"You guys need to wait for Yixing to get better anyway," he says. "Let's have some fun."

"What about your band?"

Jongdae shrugs. "I've got time. I can do both."

"Yixing said he'd produce it," Lu Han confirms, tucking his legs underneath himself to sit lotus-style. Kyungsoo hovers at the cabinets, opening them one by one, trying to find a bag of chips or crackers that hasn't been completely decimated and left to grow stale. He finds some goldfish crackers on his third try. They look pretty questionable from where Chanyeol's sitting, but Kyungsoo tips a handful of them into his mouth anyway.

"You think the fans can handle it?"

"The fans will be so stoked their heads will explode," Baekhyun says solemnly. "We have to do this." Jongdae's not paying attention to Baekhyun, which gives him the perfect opportunity to untie his shoelaces and knot them back together.

Chanyeol hasn't seen Baekhyun this enthusiastic about making music in a long time. It's like the fire's been lit underneath him again. Chanyeol supposes it's easy to get bored when it's the same thing day in and day out, when he barely has a hand in the creative process behind the songwriting. Baekhyun's spent the past five years singing someone else's songs, telling someone else's story. It's not that he's overstayed his welcome—Baekhyun has definitely made his position as lead singer in _Fistful of Assholes_ his own, but there's something to be said for starting fresh every once in a while, just to remind yourself you can.

Kyungsoo sits down on the end of the bench next to Yura. She looks up, blinking sleepily, and hoists herself up into his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. Chanyeol catches it out of the corner of his eye, the way she lifts her head to whisper something in Kyungsoo's ear. Earlier this summer it would have driven him crazy, but now he just focuses on the protective way Kyungsoo holds her so she doesn't fall and feels relieved that someone else is taking care of his sister as much as he wants to all the time. Kyungsoo throws his head back and laughs at whatever she's saying.

"What?" Chanyeol asks warily. That's never a good laugh. It's the one Kyungsoo always uses when Chanyeol's done something really stupid. Yura looks at him and smiles.

"Nothing."

"Nothing," Kyungsoo echoes, glancing at Yura. He manages to hold his straight face for all of five seconds before he cracks up again. Chanyeol's glad to see he's happy, too. The summer had definitely taken a turn for the worse, but everything seems to be on track now, and he can't really ask for much more than that.

 

**denver, colorado. august 3.**

Last day of the tour. Chanyeol feels strangely renewed, like it's the first time all over again. Baekhyun blames it on the mountain air, but maybe it's the FaceTime call with Yixing they'd had moments before going onstage, or the prospect of finally heading into the studio in the fall.

"What's going to happen?" Chanyeol asks Kyungsoo later, when it's just the two of them cleaning up the equipment. Kyungsoo coils an extension cord around his palm and elbow, throwing his whole body into it as he methodically wraps it around, hoisting it up over his head as he works. He raises an eyebrow at the question, baffled.

"What's going to happen to what? The band?"

Chanyeol is too chickenshit to say 'with us', so he shrugs and busies himself with rearranging the guitar cases. He doesn't have to wait long before Kyungsoo's hand comes to rest on the crook of his elbow, tugging at him until he turns around. The way his eyes glow in the low light, cheeks peaked into a broad smile. He doesn't have to say anything for Chanyeol to know that they're not over, even if the summer is. Chanyeol's glad. He's never liked the idea of the people in his life being temporary. The friends he has he aims to keep forever. Double goes for Kyungsoo.

"So," Chanyeol says, inching closer. "It's not a fling."

Kyungsoo shakes his head. His eyes flutter shut instinctively, face tilted up to accept a kiss that misses the broad heart shape of his mouth and lands on his chin. His laughter is bright and loud, wiping Chanyeol's saliva off his face.

"Don't you need to be practicing for this upcoming album of yours?" he teases, ducking the second attempt. Chanyeol is undeterred. He reels him in by the hips and finally pins him underneath his mouth, hoping Kyungsoo realizes everything he's trying to say.

If he doesn't get the picture, though, that's alright. Chanyeol will tell him every day. He'll even put it in a song.

**Author's Note:**

> written for frailspells@lj for chinguline exchange 2014.


End file.
